So as Colonel Crockett moved stealthily along the path, the corpulent Hollander did the same to the best of his ability; stepping so lightly and rapidly, that it made it quite a task for him, and he puffed and panted like a tired dog.
"Confound it!" growled Crockett, turning his head. "Can't you keep still?"
"Dat ish what I is doing," was the reply. "I doesn't make no noise."
"You will frighten away the game."
"Dat ish a lie—"
"'Sh! there it is."
Hans caught sight of something dark, moving along the path, and instantly raised his blunderbuss and fired, narrowly missing taking off the head of Colonel Crockett in front of him. He did not strike the object, or come anywhere near it, but he produced a response, like a six-pounder.
"There! that will do; we don't propose to hurt you."
It was the voice of Sebastian, the Texan, and, as may be supposed, was a surprise and delight to the others.
"Where did I hit you? In te head, or in te heart?" inquired Hans Bungslager, with some solicitude.