After grasping the hand of the lad, he said:
“What do you s’pose, younker? Arter all I’ve said, and arter all we’ve seen, that Maquesa has been tellin’ me nothin’ but the truth itself.”
“Are you in earnest?” inquired Harry, with no little amazement.
“Never more in ’arnest in my life; I got a look into thar village, and was mighty lucky in finding the lodge of Maquesa himself. Thar I listened fur a half-hour, while he talked with his squaw, and what I heard him say made me sartin that Little Rifle has joined her father, and with a couple of Injins to guide ’em, they’re gone down the Columbia, on thar way to Fr’isco. If we ever expect to overhaul ’em, that’s just what we’ve got to do. The little gal is still ahead of us, and we’re a good ways behind.”
“How much have they the start of us?” asked Harry.
“I dunno; but I think it can’t be fur from two days, and mebbe a good deal more.”
“Do you think there is any probability of our overtaking them, before they reach the mouth of the Columbia?”
“The chances are all ag’in’ it; ’cause it ain’t likely that them two red-skins have slept much on thar way. You know the old man would be purty sartin to give ’em good pay and hurry ’em up all he could. I shouldn’t wonder if they’ve set him and Little Rifle already ashore, and then our only chance is that the vessel they’re goin’ on don’t sail afore we git thar.”
“Then let us be off at once.”
Both were so eager to get forward that they took no more time than was absolutely necessary for taking their dinner. The day was clear and pleasant, just cool enough to make the exercise of paddling exhilarating to one of Old Ruff’s powerful, healthy frame.