“I should say so,” agreed Ed, feeling the tear in his coat.
George went over to Indian Pete, who was examining the powerful, grizzled body of the dead leader. The young hunter was much pleased when Pete said he had done well to kill it.
“How many do you think were in the pack?” inquired Ben.
The Indian held up his ten fingers twice, and then five.
“Count them, plenty times,” he said.
“Did you get the one you left the trail for?” asked the guide.
Pete gave one of his customary nods in the affirmative.
“I thought so,” said Ben to the boys. “An Indian usually gets what he starts after.”
Pete soon left to resume the long journey to his cabin. They watched him climb the mountain, expecting that he might look back when he reached the summit. He did not turn, however, but went stolidly on, and disappeared from sight over the top.
“He’s a queer old fellow, but I like him,” said Ed.