That was quite enough to start the old fellow, and he seemed ready to fight at the drop of the hat; but, at this moment, something happened to divert his attention.
Out of the darkness stalked a man, who calmly and deliberately advanced toward the party.
"Halt thar!" cried Old Rocks, catching up a rifle and covering the stranger.
The man did not pay the least attention to the command, but continued to advance.
"Halt, or I'll shoot!" shouted the guide.
Still the unknown refused to obey, and, to the bewilderment of Old Rocks, he walked straight up to the muzzle of the weapon, where he stopped, saying:
"I knew you wouldn't shoot. If you had, you could not have killed me. Nothing can kill me, because I have sought death everywhere, and I have not been able to find it. It is he who flees from death who finds it first."
Then he sat down.
"Wa-al, dern me!" gasped Old Rocks. "I dunno why I didn't soak yer; but thar wuz somethin' held me back."
"It was the hand of fate."