“A red varmint never takes chances when he has a show of getting what he wants without it; there ain’t ’nough of ’em to ride up and open fire; don’t ye see that if they hold off till darkness, believing as how we haven’t an idee they’re within a thousand miles, and we ain’t keeping a lookout, they believe they can play thunder with us?”
There was no questioning the truth of this theory. Alden slipped the cord which held the glasses over his head and handed them to the guide.
“Try them; good as are your eyes, these will help you.” But the old fellow shook his head.
“I don’t need any of your new-fangled notions; when my eyes go back on me, I’ll resign and hike over the divide.”
Alden Payne was deeply interested in what he had been told. A crisis threatened in which under heaven all depended upon the sagacity of this veteran of the plains. The youth waited for him to explain his intentions.
“Ye see now the sense of my making some of the men stand guard every time we went into camp; they’ve been trained so they know how to do it; ye’ve had to take yer turn with the rest of ’em.”
“And glad was I to do so; I hope you will use me to-night.”
“Which is ’zactly what I’m going to do; that’s all I’ve got to say now; ride back to that thick-headed darky.”
“Shall I tell him what you have just said to me?”
“I hain’t any ’bjections; it’ll probably scare him half white, but ye needn’t say anything to anybody else, ’cepting Fleming; tell him to come up hyar for a little talk on bus’ness with me.”