“Pete, old fellow,” I said presently, rising to my elbow, “who brought me to camp? Who killed that bear? Who saved our lives?”
“The Wild Hunter,” replied Pete gravely. “He bathed my head with some sort of good smelling stuff and, though I am as heavy as a dead buffaler, toted me to camp; he ’lowed that I was all sort of shuk up and a little hazy; he fixed my blanket, then he fotched you in on his shoulders just as if you was a dead antelope, fixed you up with bandages torn from handkerchiefs in your pocket, gave you a drink which you didn’t seem to appreciate, but just swallowed like you were asleep, then he laid you out. I had my eye peeled on him but he said nary a word, an’ when we wuz both all comfortable he pulled out a long cigar, sot down by the fire and was smoking tha’ with his bird and his wolves around him when I went to sleep.
“He cut his bullets out, as he allus does,” muttered Pete a little while later.
“Who cut what bullets?” I asked.
“Whomsoever cud I mean but th’ Wild Hunter, and wha’s tha’ been any bullets lately but in th’ b’ar?” queried my companion.
“Yes, of course,” I admitted, “but why do you suppose he cut out the bullets?”
“Wal, I reckon tha’ might be right scarce and he haster be kinder sparing with them. I calculate you’d like to have a hatful of them balls, leastwise most folks would; cause the Wild Hunter don’t use no common low-flung lead for his bullets, no-sir-ree bob-horsefly! Tain’t good ’nuff for a high-cock-alorum like him—he shoots balls of virgin gold!”
But I was more interested in what had become of this strange man than in the sort of projectiles rumor said that he used in his gun and so dismissed the subject with a request for further information about our rescuer.
“This morning when I opened my peepers,” Pete continued, “I t’ought maybe the Wild Hunter had only gone off on a tramp; but he’s done clared out for good, and tuk his wolves and bird with him. I’m some glad he took th’ wolves, I don’t sorter like the look of their mean eyes; they do say that he is a wolf himself and the head of the pack.”
“What’s that, Pete? Steady, old man, now let’s go slow.”