“Hallo, the house!” came the hail.
“Get out, ye brutes!” shouted the squatter; whereupon the dogs scattered and took refuge under the porch. “Alight an’ hitch, strangers. I’ll be thar in a minute!”
The boys heard their host moving about the living-room and mending the fire to make it blaze. Then he opened the door and they listened with all their ears to hear what passed between him and the new comers. As there was but one thin board partition (and that was full of wide cracks) between them and the door, they could catch every word that was uttered.
“Alight an’ hitch, strangers,” said the squatter, repeating his stereotyped invitation. “You’re welcome to sich as we’ve got, an’ that ain’t none of the best, I can tell you.”
“Thank you,” replied the same voice that had hailed the house; and when Ned heard it he trembled again. “If you will let us spread our blankets on your porch, and will give us a bite to eat in the morning, we shall be much obliged. We’ll not ask you to get supper for us. It is too late.”
“No occasion, stranger; no occasion,” replied the hospitable squatter. “Ole woman, here’s a couple of hungry gentlemen out here who want something to eat. Travellin’ fur, strangers?”
“We’ve ridden about seventy-five miles. Have you seen a party of four persons pass this way to-day, one of them a young fellow, riding a dark chestnut horse with white mane and tail, and four white feet?”
“Gracious!” thought Ned.
“Aha!” said Gus, to himself, at the same time drawing a long breath of relief. “He didn’t say a word about the cattle that were shot, so I have nothing to fear. Ned can look out for number one; that’s what he was going to make me do. But he asked after four persons. Who is the other, I wonder? There were but three of us before George was taken away.”
“Ain’t seed no sich,” replied the squatter.