“Only half as many to feed,” said the Doctor, bitterly.
“Poor Joses!” groaned Bart with a piteous sigh.
“Chief Joses coming,” said the Beaver pointing; and to the delight of all they could see Joses in the distance, his rifle shouldered, marching quietly towards them, and evidently making himself a cigarette as he came.
Half an hour later he was in their midst.
“Couldn’t save the obstinate beasts, master,” he said quietly; “they were worse than buffler.”
“But how did you manage to escape?” cried the Doctor and Bart in a breath.
“Oh! when I see it was all over, I just crept under a bush, and waited till the Indian dogs had gone.”
“Chief Joses too wise for Apaché dog,” said the Beaver, with a calm smile. “Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth told young chief Bart so.”
“Yes,” said Bart; “and I can’t tell you how glad I am.”
“Just about as glad as I am, Master Bart,” said Joses, gruffly. “I did my best, master, and I couldn’t do no more.”