But Oscar did not know it, for he was wholly wrapped up in his meditations. The first thing that aroused him was the creaking of the wooden hinges. Then he looked up to see that a shaggy, uncombed head, covered with a greasy felt hat, had been thrust into the cabin. Under the hat was a most villainous and repulsive countenance that Oscar recognized at once.
Knowing the man and the reputation he bore, he jumped to his feet with an exclamation of astonishment, and made a dash for his rifle; but at the same instant the door was thrown wide open, and the tall, slouching figure of Lish the Wolfer barred his way.
CHAPTER XXXI.
TOM AND HIS PARTNER.
“Well, if this doesn’t bang me completely! Who in the world would ever have dreamed of seeing that boy out here? I can’t describe the feelings I experienced when he first came in sight. I knew that I was neither asleep nor dreaming, and I was really afraid that my senses were deserting me. If I haven’t passed through enough since I left home to unsettle almost anybody’s mind I don’t want a cent. This much I know—I’ll never be surprised at anything that happens hereafter.”
It was Tom Preston who spoke. The last time we saw him he was hurrying into a thicket, with an axe on his shoulder, ostensibly for the purpose of cutting some wood for the fire, which he had allowed to burn itself nearly out; but his real object was to get away from his brother, whose presence he could no longer endure.
He now stood in the edge of the thicket, listening to the echoes made by the pony’s feet as Oscar rode away from the camp. As soon as the sound ceased he walked out of the bushes, threw his axe spitefully down upon the ground, and seated himself on his log again. He had never been so nearly overcome with rage before in his life.
“This is a pretty state of affairs, I must say!” he exclaimed aloud. “Here’s Oscar, with a thousand dollars in clean cash at his command, a fine hunting rig of his own, a pony to ride, and living like a gentleman at the fort, with those gold-bespangled officers, who wouldn’t so much as look at me if they met me on the trail, or even speak of me, unless it was to say, ‘There goes some worthless vagabond.’ And he even had the impudence to tell me that he has a guide, and is going to the mountains in style; while I——It’s a lucky thing for him that he left his money at the fort,” said Tom, grinding his teeth in his fury. “I’d have choked some of it out of him in short order. He must have seen at a glance how miserable I am, and yet he seemed to take delight in telling me how comfortably he is situated.”
For a long time Tom sat on his log, making himself miserable with such thoughts as these, and the longer he indulged them the madder he became. He could see very plainly that there was a wide gulf between him and his brother, and it hurt him terribly to know that he had made that gulf by his own acts.
He had never dreamed that there was anything in Oscar, or “Old Sober Sides,” as he used to call him; but here he was, the associate of a college faculty and the daily companion of officers who held high and honorable positions under the government.
As for himself, there was only one person in the world he could lean upon, or to whom he could look for a kind word; and he was so low down in the scale of humanity that, had he presumed to intrude among those with whom Oscar associated on terms of the closest intimacy, he would have been promptly kicked out of doors.