The sun was nearly on the meridian when he was riding along the pleasant stream, in the shade of the cottonwoods and willows, meditating on his vagrant life, and wondering whether he would ever settle down and become a quiet and steady citizen. Thoughts of dinner were also in his mind, and were further provoked by the sight of a thin column of blue smoke, curling up above the tree-tops before him. He stopped at once, with a true woodman’s caution, and speculated upon the smoke and its cause.
He thought that he could not be far from the rendezvous, and it was not likely that there would be any hostile Indians so near a large assembly of white men. It was more probable that some hunters had chosen the spot for the purpose of enjoying their noon meal. Wilder was willing enough to join them; but he thought it best to use caution, as he could not be certain whether he was to meet friends or enemies.
He dismounted, tethered his horses, and quietly picked his way through the undergrowth toward the smoke. He was soon near enough to perceive two white men seated by the remains of a fire. Near them was the carcass of an antelope, from which they had made their meal. Both men were smoking, and a flask that lay between them denoted that they were not destitute of another creature comfort much prized in the wilderness.
Wilder was about to step forward and join them, when he was stopped by an exclamation that one of them made. He heard Flora Robinette’s name, used in a manner that strongly attracted his attention, and made him anxious to hear more of the conversation.
Crawling up closer, and concealing himself behind the trunk of a large cottonwood, he looked and listened. He knew both of the men, one of whom was Martin Laurie, Mr. Robinette’s agent, and the other was Jacob Farnsworth, also one of the trader’s employés.
“You think, then, that you can find the girl?” asked Farnsworth.
“I am pretty certain of that,” replied the Scotchman.
“What will you do with her when you get her?”
“It seems to me, my friend, that you are becoming inquisitive.”
“I suppose I am; but it is a matter that concerns me a little.”