“Whenever we do meet a stranger in these parts, an’ he turns out to be the right kind of a chap, we allers treat him as handsome as we know how. We can’t offer you anything more’n a chunk of buffaler hump, but sich as we have yer welcome to.”
The offer was evidently made in all sincerity, and if Frank still entertained any fears that the men were not what they should be, he speedily dismissed them, and again blessed his lucky stars that he was not compelled to pass another night alone on the prairie.
While his supper was cooking, he was again plied with questions, the most of them relating to the movements of old Bob; and especially did the trappers seem anxious to learn where he was going, and what he intended to do when he returned from California. Frank answered these questions as well as he could, and his replies seemed to satisfy the men, one of whom finally changed the subject of the conversation, by remarking:
“I’ll allow that’s a fine shootin’ iron of your’n, stranger, but it’s a new-fangled consarn, I should say.”
Frank, it will be remembered, had Archie’s rifle, which, being a breech-loading weapon, was something the trappers had never seen before, and it required considerable explanation to enable them to understand “how the consarn worked.”
From his rifle they went to the other articles of his “kit.” The contents of his haversack were examined, the qualities of his hunting-knife and revolvers discussed, and then they turned their attention to his horse—made inquiries concerning his speed and bottom, until, weary with their questioning, they stretched themselves out by the fire and went to sleep.
After eating his supper, Frank followed their example; and, being completely exhausted, having scarcely closed his eyes during the preceding night, he slept soundly until morning.
When he awoke it was just daylight. The trappers had already arisen; the fire had been replenished, and several slices of meat were broiling on the coals.
They hardly noticed Frank; the only reply his polite greetings received, being a sort of grunt and a slight nod of the head. After washing his hands and face in the creek that ran close by—a proceeding which the trappers regarded with undisguised contempt—he seated himself at the fire with the others and began helping himself to the meat, at the same time inquiring the way to the old bear’s hole.
“That ar’ is the way, stranger,” replied the swarthy trapper, pointing in a direction exactly contrary to the one Frank had pursued the day before; “an’, as I told ye last night, it’s nigh on to fifty miles off.”