“Hullo, stranger, did you drop from the clouds?” asked one of them, merely turning his head without changing his position. The other turned his eyes slightly but did nothing more. “This ’yer what I call a new style of introducing yourself into gentlemen’s society; shoot me for a beaver if it aint!”
“That it is,” laughed Wainwright, “but you see I was in quite a hurry!”
“What made you in such a hurry?”
“I was fleeing from Indians——”
“What’s that?” demanded both of them in a breath.
“I was fleeing from Indians, and was looking more behind than in front of me.”
“That yer’s what I call a different story,” exclaimed the oldest, springing up and dashing the burning embers apart, so as to extinguish the light as soon as possible. It required but a few moments thoroughly to complete the work, when he turned to Wainwright and asked in a whisper:
“Mought they be close at hand, stranger?”
“I don’t think they are.”
“Have you time to talk a few minutes?”