“But, where did they join the party?”
“Somewhar further ’long, and I b’lieve now,” continued the mountaineer in his emphatic way, “that the whole caboodle of ’em have come over here after Little Rifle. Maquesa has l’arned somethin’ that has made him s’pect the gal that was left in his charge is the same one that I’ve been bringin’ up, and he’s come over the mountains in s’arch of her.”
“All that looks reasonable,” replied Harry, “but I haven’t heard or thought of any thing yet that can make me understand the course of Little Rifle in the business. That is the mystery which passes my comprehension.”
A troubled look crossed the face of the hunter, and he stared earnestly in the countenance of the lad for a moment, and then asked in a low voice:
“Shall I tell you what it means?”
“If you can?” replied Harry, intensely eager to hear his explanation.
“Wal, I can—I can see it all; I know more ’bout the pet than you do, and it all come to me why she left you in that style, when you war asleep by the camp-fire.”
Harry Northend stared wonderingly at the hunter, as if he doubted his sanity. But the old man was never in clearer mood, and he was in dead earnest. But now, when the very words seemed trembling upon his tongue, he hesitated, as if unwilling to pronounce them. He appeared indeed to control his emotions only by the strongest effort.
Harry waited, wondering what the words would be; but they came not, and the trapper, who had partly paused in his walk, now walked faster, as if seeking to get away from some exceedingly painful recollection.
Under any other circumstances, the lad would have respected this embarrassment upon the part of his friend; but, where Little Rifle was concerned, he was unwilling to do so, and he put the question direct.