"You know you are welcome to act; still, why look for me?"
"Well, I did not exactly look for you, but I wanted to give you warning; of course, I knew where you had gone."
The young man blushed, while the old man laughed.
"Now, then," cried Clinton, "let us go home."
"Wait one moment. About fifty yards in my rear the dogs opened cry. I ran and found—"
"A bear?" exclaimed the squatter.
"No, I would not have minded that. It was not a bear, but a man. He was lying insensible on the ground, his skull split open from a heavy fall, and a shot wound in his left arm. His horse was grazing close by. He appeared to be a traveller traitorously shot by an Indian. I thought I heard an explosion; at all events, the wretch fled before the dogs, just as he was about to rob the unfortunate."
"You assisted him?"
"How could I help it? I could not let him die like a skunk on the road; and yet it would have been wiser."
"Charbonneau!" cried the young man, "Is that really you?"