“Why, he’s the perfect image of you!”
Dave now started in surprise, and turned his keen glance upon the stranger. As Abe had said, save that the unknown was darker in color, there was, indeed, a wonderful resemblance between the two men—the same long black hair, curling at the ends—the same flashing black eyes, the same expression on the face, almost the same size, and features marvelously like those of the young guide.
“Yes, he does look like me,” said Dave, surveying the stranger with a puzzled air.
“Like you! You couldn’t be more alike if you were run in the same mold,” said the “Crow-Killer.”
“It is very strange, to say the least.” Dave spoke thoughtfully.
“Strange, you bet!” answered Abe, tersely.
And yet, at this very moment, to a close observer, there was something else stranger than all, and that was the resemblance in the general expression of the features that both Dave Reed and the stranger bore to Abe, the “Crow-Killer.” Their eyes were black and his were gray, and yet they looked alike. Had they been clad alike, a stranger would have taken the three for father and sons.
“He looks like an Injun, and yet he is too light colored for one,” said Dave.
“Yes,” responded the “Crow-Killer,” watching the unknown with a keen glance, “he ain’t one of our party I know. I guess he’s a stranger hyar too, for he don’t seem to know any of the folks round. He don’t look exactly like an Injun, but he may be one with white blood in him; that would account for his light color.”
“I’ll go over and find out who he is,” said Dave.