"I should like to know how she is getting along," Grey continued. "But how can I go? If I could feel she is my Madeline as of old, then no power in Hishu could keep me from her side. But I can't go unless I know she wants me. I would like to hear, too, about the boy."
The trapper sat thoughtfully smoking for some time in deep silence. Then he reached out a large hand across the table.
"Put it thar, young man," he said. "Yer tale of sorrow has brought ye very close to me old heart. We're pardners now fer sure. Buckskin Dan don't make friends easy, but when he does it's with links of steel, an' don't ye fergit that. But, come, we've sot here long enough. I jist want to run across to the store fer a little baccy an' ammunition. It'll take only a few minutes. Thar's important bizness ahead of us, an' we ain't got no time to lose."
CHAPTER XIII THE TRAILING SERPENT
Buckskin Dan walked slowly along the trail toward the store. The day was young, and the sun was just swinging clear of the far eastern horizon. It was a cool morning, and the mists of night still hung thick over river and valley. Dan's chest expanded as he drank into his lungs great draughts of the fresh, keen air. "It's the only tonic I need," he had often remarked. "Pills an' tablets an' patent trash may suit some, but give me the medicine the good Lord sends fresh from the hills an' mountains. Thar's no p'isin in that, an' it doesn't twist yer stummick into a groanin' hell wuss than some preachers tell us about."
He found Siwash Bill within the store, looking carefully over his supply of rifles and shot-guns.
"Mornin', Dan," was the curt salutation.
"Mornin'," came the brief reply. "Any baccy?"