Dave Farrell turned to acknowledge the introduction with a peculiar look upon his face.
“It seems to me, although I may be wrong—that I have seen you before.”
“I don’t remember, Captain Farrell,” replied Rafe, coolly. “Still, I’ve been in many places, and we might have met without recollecting it.”
“I think it was in Fort Garry, in the year ’53.”
“Scarcely; I have not been in that country for nearly four years.”
“We are all liable to mistakes,” said Dave; “but of course you have some kind of business up this way?”
“Of course.”
“Do you object to mentioning what business?”
“I am not in a position to give you any information upon the subject just now as I do not recognize your authority. I have been chased by Indians and escaped by means of your friend here, who has offered me a shelter and has not insulted me by asking impertinent questions.”
“Impertinent!” said Dave, slowly, turning his eyes full upon the face of the speaker. “I said that I would like to know your business, having stated mine.”