CHAPTER XIX
THE TRADING-POST ON THE KINOTAH
Dave had anticipated a fine night’s rest in the Indian wigwam assigned to Barringford and himself, and he could not understand the quizzical look upon the old hunter’s face when he prepared to lie down.
“What’s the matter, Sam?” he questioned.
“Nuthin, Dave,” was the dry answer. “Only if ye sleep well let me know in the morning.”
“But why did you look at me in that fashion?”
“Don’t mind it, lad—it’s all right,—and I hope ye sleep well,” and with this Barringford rolled himself in his blanket and was soon in the land of dreams. But he slept close to the entrance of the wigwam and disdained all the mats and robes offered to him.
Feeling it would be softer to sleep on a robe, Dave piled three of them on top of each other and threw himself down. He was just dozing off when he felt something on his ankle, then something on his knee, and then something pretty much all over him. The robes and mats were filled with vermin, and without waiting to scratch himself he leaped to his feet. Then began a lively battle between the youth and the pests, in the midst of which he awoke Barringford.
“Hullo, what’s up?” came from the old hunter, sleepily, but that quizzical look came again into his eyes.
“You know well enough, Sam. Why didn’t you tell me this place was inhabited?” cried Dave, twisting and scratching himself, first in one way and then another.
“Is it inhabited?”