"That'd be a pity, an' no mistake. Are ye referrin' to yer own case?"
"I certainly am. I am positive that the only woman in the world I want cares nothing for me. She does not even know my name, while I—oh, well, you know how I feel toward her."
"Jist keep up courage an' plod along, that's my advice. If she's meant fer you, ye'll win her all right. I'm a great believer in the idea that our own'll come to us some day, an' often in ways we least expect. But, hello! what's that?"
The trail on which they were now walking wound along the side of a deep valley, through which flowed a small stream. Samson was looking across toward the opposite bank, and as Reynolds turned his eyes in that direction he saw an Indian on horseback as motionless as the trees around him. He was facing the two travellers, and apparently he had been watching them for some time.
"Where do you suppose he has come from, and what does he want?"
Reynolds asked.
His companion's only reply was to bring his rifle to his shoulder and fire two shots in rapid succession across the valley toward the horseman, neither of which took effect. The Indian quickly unslung his rifle, fired one shot in return, and immediately vanished into the forest.
"Is that the best you can do?" Reynolds asked. "You should have let me have a crack at him."
"Me aim's unsartin to-day," was the reply. "I don't allus miss like that."
"But why did you shoot, anyway? The Indian was doing us no harm."
"He was skulkin' around, though, an' I jist gave him a hint to move along."