“I had rather meet the Arapahoes. We might get away from them. The governor may be too inquisitive,” concluded Silverspur, with a significant glance at Dove-eye.
“Thar’s suthin’ in that, shore enough. Colonel Wilder don’t look like a man who would fancy an Indian wife for his son. Do ye raaly mean to marry the gal?”
“I hope to. It is certain that I will never marry any other.”
“That is talkin’ like a man. Wal, my boy, what will be will be, and thar’s no use in frettin’. Hyar they are, and we’ve got to meet ’em.”
Colonel Wilder came riding forward in advance of his party accompanied by Bad Eye, the head chief of the Crows. The colonel was an old gentleman of fine appearance, who looked as if he had been born to fill the position of an officer. In fact, he had been a hard fighting and hard working soldier, who had fought and worked his way up to the grade which he then held and well deserved. He was dressed in his full uniform—an unusual thing with an officer on duty in the wilderness, and his appearance produced a feeling of respectful awe even in Old Blaze, who was not accustomed to such feelings.
He did not recognize his son until he was quite close to him, and it was evident—although he controlled himself, and returned Fred’s greeting very cordially—that he was surprised to see him at that place and in such company.
“Why, Fred!” he exclaimed, “you are the last man I would have expected to meet here. I thought that you had quit this wild life, and that you had settled down to business in St. Louis.”
“I thought so, too, sir, for a while, and I believe I tried to settle down; but every thing was so strange to me in the city, and I felt an unconquerable desire to return to the free life of the plains.”
“An unconquerable desire! I must confess my ignorance of the meaning of that phrase. I am afraid that you have grown to be a perfect savage. Who are your friends, and where are you going?”