“Yes; all the way from the sea.”
“And what are you going to do at Fort Elk, eh?”
Gunson looked round at him sharply.
“Well?” said the stranger, meeting Gunson’s look firmly.
“Only going to ask you if you were an American from down coast.”
“No, I am an Englishman like yourself. Why?”
“Because you ask questions like a Yankee commercial traveller—drummers don’t they call them?”
“Yes, I think so,” said the stranger, quietly. “I always do ask questions when I want to know anything.”
“Good way,” said Gunson, gruffly; and it was very plain that they two would not be very good friends.
“Do you know Mr Daniel Raydon at the Fort?” I asked, to change the conversation, which was growing ticklish.