Archie was so bewildered that, for a minute or two, he could not have told whether he was awake or dreaming. He swallowed a few times to overcome the effect of the choking he had received, rubbed his eyes, and looked about him; and all the while the tall trapper stood regarding him, with a savage smile on his face, while his three companions seated themselves beside the fire, and coolly proceeded to fill their pipes.
"It's him, aint it, Bill?" asked one, at length.
"Yes," replied the person addressed, still looking fixedly at his prisoner, and evidently enjoying his bewilderment, "it's him. Seems to me you might have a good word to say to your uncle, seein' it's so long since we've met one another."
"My uncle!" exclaimed Archie, now for the first time recovering the use of his tongue.
"Sartin. You aint agoin' to deny it? You aint agoin' back on me, are you? I've been through a heap since I seed you last—I've been chawed up by bars an' catamounts, an' been shot at by Injuns an' white fellers, an' mebbe I've changed a leetle. I never did brag much on my good looks, but I'm your uncle, fur all that."
"You!" almost shouted Archie, gazing in amazement at the trapper's dark, scarred face; "you my uncle! Not if I know who I am, and I think I do. Do you take me for a lunatic, or are you crazy yourself?"
"Nary one, I reckon. I take you fur my nephew—Adam Brent—an' I know what I'm sayin'."
"Well, if Adam has such a looking uncle as you are, I am sorry for him. You've made a great mistake. My name is Winters, if it will do you any good to know it."
"No, I reckon not," replied the trapper, who seemed to be greatly pleased at his prisoner's pluck and independence. "I reckon you're Adam Brent."
"I guess I ought to know what my name is, hadn't I?" exclaimed Archie, angrily. "Who are you, anyhow, and what business have you to take me away from my friends?"