Leonidas could only stare his surprise, as the hunter allowed his horse to walk around to a point a few yards away, where Lancaster was earnestly discussing some matter with several of his friends.
“That’s cool,” muttered the Yankee, as he gazed after him, “but I swan, I think it served me about right; that’ere Lancaster knows more about the prairies, and the mountains and Indians in one week than I could learn in my life time; so, after this, I’ll keep still that is so far as giving advice is concerned, though I do think I might give him a good idea now and then.”
As Lancaster was talking about something which interested all, Swipes concluded to join the group around him, and learn what it all meant. Just as he did so, it seemed matters reached a decision.
“I’m satisfied,” said Lancaster, with a decided shake of his head, “I know just what point them dogs are aiming at.”
“Where is that?”
“The Chevenine Hills.”
“And where are they?” asked several.
The trapper turned his head, as if he expected to see them, and then answered.
The guide now spoke as a man speaks who has been long debating a matter in his mind, and has at length reached a decision.
“I might have knowed you couldn’t see the Chevenine Hills; they’re off to the South, a good fifty miles from here. There’s many a traveler that remembers them, for it’s a great place for Apaches; they hide in there, and you never see nothin’ of ’em, till they come yelling and whooping down from the hills and woods, and sail through the train, shouting, tomahawking and raising all the hair they can. That’s where these dogs have gone, or have started to go and we must head them off.”