"Did you—did you kill him?" he questioned.
"Reckon as how we did, Dave," answered Sam Barringford, with a broad grin. "Sorry if you didn't want it done, lad."
"Didn't want it done? Oh, Sam, I'm thankful you came up."
"White Buffalo gave him the one in the eye, and I soused it into his ear. Arfter thet he kinder lost interest in livin'," added the old frontiersman.
"Then I must thank you, too, for my escape," said Dave, going up to the Indian. "How are you?" and he shook hands.
"How? how?" returned White Buffalo. "Glad Dave not killed. He was big bear."
"I've never seen a larger around these parts," returned the young hunter. "Have you, Sam?"
"Never, lad. Dock Fisher once got one about as big, but he wasn't so heavy, to my way o' thinkin'. White Buffalo an' I spotted this chap three hours ago, and clipped him, but he got away—as you found out."
"He was hurt just enough to be ugly," came from Rodney. "I'm thankful he is out of it," and he gave a deep sigh of relief.
"We have been looking for you for over a week," went on Dave to the old frontiersman. "I thought you'd go out hunting with us."