“Would you?” asked Julian, throwing his rifle into the hollow of his arm and resting his thumb on the hammer; “then have the goodness to leave here at once. I am suspicious of every stranger who calls me by name.”
“An’ well you may be,” replied the man, earnestly, “‘cause most of ’em are enemies to you. But I hain’t. I’m a friend, an’ I can prove it. Do you know that Dick Mortimer an’ Jack Bowles are huntin’ the country over to find you?”
“Yes; but I wasn’t aware Mr. Mortimer’s name is Dick.”
“Wal, it is. The flatboat’s come, an’ when they ketch you they’re goin’ to take you to Orleans an’ lock you up fur a crazy boy.”
“Why, they said last night that they were going to push me overboard and drown me,” said Julian, as soon as he could speak.
“Mebbe they be. I don’t know what they are goin’ to do—I’m only tellin’ you what I heerd ’em say.”
“Who are you, any how; and how does it come that you know my name?”
“Why, boy, I’ve knowed you ever since you was knee high to a duck, an’ your father afore you.”
“You have?” cried Julian, greatly amazed.
“In course. An’ your mother an’ your brother, too. They live out in the mountains, an’ I come to take you to ’em. They’ll be monstrous glad to see you, an’ they’re waitin’ fur you.”