“How near are we to it?”
“About ten miles off; we’ll ride there before breakfast tomorrow, and take our first meal with the party.”
“What became of their guide?”
“The guide was shot by an Apache Indian two days ago, and the party have been half frightened to death ever since. They declared, if they could not find a guide, they would never enter California; as you can see we’ve good reason to ’spect they’ll be rather glad to have our company.”
“It seems singular that the very man upon whom they relied, and the one who no doubt knew more about the Indians than all the others combined, should be the very first one to fall a victim.”
“How do you know he was the first one?” demanded Ward Lancaster, almost fiercely, as he turned his face toward Fred Wainwright.
“I don’t know it; only imagined it from the remark you made.”
“Well, perhaps he was the first one,” was the complacent remark of the hunter, as he resumed his pipe. “I don’t know neither to the contrary notwithstanding.”
“Then it’s my opinion you’d better keep your mouth shet,” was the comment of Harling. “Them people that don’t know nothing, gain the most credit by saying nothing.”
“That’s the reason you keep mum so much of the time, I ’spose. Wal, that’s right; you ought to know yourself; don’t let me change your habits, because that is a mighty good habit you’ve got.”