CHAPTER XXI. THE LONELY CAMP-FIRE.
The twinkling light of a camp-fire at such a time as this, and in such a place, was enough to make any one cautious, and Egbert Rodman approached it as stealthily as a Comanche would have done himself.
He was somewhat surprised when yet some distance away to observe that there was a single person sitting near it, in the attitude either of deep meditation or intense listening.
“There must be others close at hand, or else he is not aware of the danger he runs,” muttered the young man, as he continued his advance. “Strange, but there is something about him that reminds me of Lightning Jo; and,” he added, the next moment, “Lightning Jo it is; helloa! old fellow, how came you here?”
And forgetful of all else for the time, except his delight in seeing the true and tried comrade, Egbert Rodman rushed forward to give him appropriate greeting.
He saw at once that something was the matter with the scout. He was sitting upon a large stone, with his rifle between his knees, and supporting his chin, was looking absently into the fire, like one whose thoughts were entirely removed from his present surroundings. He merely looked up at the spontaneous greeting of the young friend from whom he had become separated some time before, and staring at him for a moment, again lowered his gaze without saying a word or shifting his position.
But, if he was in a sullen, thoughtful mood, Egbert was not, nor did he intend to keep any prolonged silence in deference to such a whim. He believed he understood the scout well enough to know how to approach him, and in a cheery manner, free from any rude familiarity, he placed himself beside him, and touching his shoulder, said:
“Come, Jo, don’t sit idle here. You seem to be depressed; but rally, and tell me what the matter is.”
The scout seemed to appreciate the consideration shown him, and straightening up, he heaved a great sigh, looked fixedly at his young friend again, but still refused to speak. Egbert was determined to press the matter.