"What's the matter? Any danger?"
"The woods are chuck full of Injins, I tell you. There must have somebody passed that way and they looking for them, there are so many."
Dernor turned and spoke to Edith:
"No doubt he is right. It is but what I suspected. What shall I do? Take a longer way home, and a safer one, or the short route?"
"Take the safest, whichever that may be."
"That is the longest. Come on, friend."
"I'm follerin'," replied that worthy, striding after him.
It was considerably past the hour of noon, and the brisk walk through the woods had given the Rifleman an appetite something akin to that of his new-found companion, so that he did not forget the expressed wish of the latter. He had no difficulty in bringing down another turkey and cooking it. There was one peculiarity which did not escape either Dernor or Edith. On the part of the latter it occasioned no concern, but it was the subject of considerable wonder and speculation with the former. Zeke Hunt, as he called himself, professed to be ravenously hungry; but when the tempting, juicy meat of the turkey was placed before him, he swallowed but a few mouthfuls. This was a small matter, it was true, and with any one except the Rifleman, would have escaped notice but this sagacious hunter considered it of so much importance as to ask an explanation.
"You appeared to be dying with hunger, and now, when food is offered, you hardly touch it. What is the meaning of that?"
"I don't know," said Zeke, wiping his fingers on the hair of his head.