“Quite sure. I don’t do such things. I have known these men a long time, and have spent months on the prairie and in the mountains in their company. I know of two Indian fights in which they have been engaged since I became acquainted with them.”
“I wonder!” exclaimed the clerk, whose astonishment and interest were so great that he could not remove his eyes from the two trappers. “Pray tell me about those fights.”
Frank thought of the historian, who, being invited to a dinner party, was requested by a lady to relate the history of the world during the five minutes that the host would probably be occupied in carving the turkey, and laughed to himself at the idea of taking less than half an hour to describe all the thrilling incidents that had happened during the battle at Fort Stockton, as recounted to him by his friend, Adam Brent, who was present on that memorable occasion. “It is rather a long story,” said he.
“Well, then, perhaps at some future time you will oblige me,” replied the clerk. “Were you ever in a battle?”
“Yes, several of them.”
“With the Indians?”
“No. They once attacked a wagon-train to which I belonged, and tried to run off our cattle and horses, but we didn’t call that a battle.”
“Were you ever a prisoner among them?”
Frank replied in the affirmative.
“Were you ever tied to the stake?”