“Did he know who shot at him?”
“You bet.”
“Giv’ him my love, and say I’ll meet him some day and squar’ accounts. Now git.”
A cut from the switches upon the flanks of each horse, sent them thundering down the ravine, bobbing about in a grotesque manner, to the intense amusement of the two hunters, who watched them laughingly, until they turned an angle in the pass and were lost to view.
CHAPTER VII.
CATCHING A TARTAR.
A week passed by, and nothing more was heard of the band who had made their camp in the valley which Old Pegs had reached upon the day when he tried his skill upon Velveteens. They had decamped suddenly, and where they had gone and what they meant to do was still a subject of debate. Old Pegs did not give up his caution, and never entered the passes without first satisfying himself that they did not conceal an enemy. But, as day after day passed, and nothing suspicious occurred, he began to think that all was safe.
“Tell you what it is, Dave,” he said. “You seem to hev forgotten thet thar is sech a thing ez a trapping-brigade in the world; by gracious, yes.”
Dave looked a little disconcerted; for, to tell the truth, he had not been able to break away from Myrtle, who seemed more beautiful day by day.
“I—I did not like to go away while there was danger,” he stammered.
“Jess so; but that bird won’t fight no longer, and I guess you’d better go down and see the boys. I don’t keer ef I go with you.”