"Why not?"
"Cause we hain't heard de cow-bell—dat go jingle-jingle."
"Let's go ahead, for I don't see any use in waiting here."
The hunter felt some impatience at the belief that he had dallied away so much time, when it was more than probable that the parties for whom he was waiting had long since passed by on the other side.
Accordingly he started his horse along the path again, Hans Bungslager following close in the rear.
"So his animile was skeared by a b'ar," mused the Tennesseean, as he rode along and recalled the fright of the horse ridden by his friend. "I wonder if he was as big a critter as I shot yesterday? If he was I'd like to get a shot at him."
He held up his rifle in front of him, as he passed through a small patch of moonlight, to make sure that the priming was in good condition.
"She's allers ready," he mused, as he still held it. "I don't like Injins, and I do like b'ars, and I'd a blamed sight rather shoot one of the four-footed than one of the two-legged critters, and if one should come 'long just now—"
"Hilloa!" called Hans again, in an unusually cautious voice.
"Well, what now?" asked Crockett, turning his head; "don't speak too loud."