This appeal was as fruitless as the other.
"If the copper gintleman won't come to us I'm going to him."
It was just like Tim to start forward to carry out his intention, though a sense of delicacy restrained his companion from joining him. The Indian, however, nipped the little scheme in the bud.
The Irishman had taken only two or three steps, when the Sioux, as he evidently was, turned about, leaped lightly down from the bowlder, and vanished.
"Well, I'll be hanged!" exclaimed the disappointed Tim, stopping short; "ye may be a good rifle shot, but be the same token ye are not fond of selict company," and with a laugh he walked back to his friend, whose face was so grave as to attract the notice of the Irishman.
"What's the matter, Warren?"
"Do you know who that Indian is?"
"I niver have saan him before."
"Yes, you have, many a time; he's been at our house within the past few weeks."
"Who is he?"