“I think thar’s another reason, Dave,” said Abe, in his quiet way; “a pretty good reason, too, an’ that reason’s a female.”
“Eh?” stammered Dave, getting as red in the face as a blushing girl.
“Jus’ so!” responded the “Crow-Killer.” “Guess I ain’t blind yet, Dave. It’s a mighty suspicious sign when a young gal likes to leave the wagons an’ ride alongside of the guides, an’ hear stories ’bout buffler huntin’ an’ Injun fightin’ an’ sich like.”
“Why, you don’t think that Miss Leona cares any thing ’bout me, do you?” asked Dave, anxiously.
“Wal, it’s hard to say; thar’s no tellin’, sometimes, ’bout these gals. I’m death on readin’ Injun sign, but a woman gits me. But, I look at it in this way: when I see the print of a moccasin on the prairie, it’s nat’ral to conclude that some one’s been thar; when I see a young gal likes to be in the company of a young feller, an’ seems to take pleasure in being with him, I don’t think I’m fur off from the trail to say that she likes him. Now that’s just the way this case stands, as near as I can fix it.”
“But, I say, Abe, you’ve forgot one thing: she’s a well brought-up girl, been educated and all that sort of thing, an’ my bringin’ up has been rough; mighty little schooling I’ve been through,” and the young guide shook his head thoughtfully.
“You’re a durned sight better educated than I am,” said Abe, “an’ I reckon I can hold up my head with any man on the upper Missouri; besides, that ain’t every thing; a man must have brains too. This Miss Leona is a sensible gal, I take it; she wants a man to fall in love with—a man with muscle an’ nerve, fit to fight his way through the world, not a dandy chap that would faint at the sight of an ax or at the smell of gunpowder, but a man she can look up to, one that can protect her, care for her an’ love her all at the same time.”
“Yes, I think you are right there; she seems to be a very sensible girl,” replied Dave.
“That’s so,” responded Abe. “I’ve had my eyes open ever since we left St. Paul; she can’t bear the sight of that Dick Hickman, though he’s been trying to be mighty sweet on her. I’ve seen it! She gits out of his way as much as she can, though he’s always arter her. I should think the feller would have sense enough to see that she can’t bear him, but there’s some men in this world haven’t got as much sense as an owl. You see, as I haven’t had any Injun sign to look arter, I’ve been amusing myself by watching the humans round me.”
“You think, then, that the girl likes me?” asked Dave, anxiously.