There was nothing in the shape of bed clothes in sight, or any provisions, or any packages that looked as though they might contain provisions; and the only cooking utensil to be seen was a battered and blackened coffee-pot, which lay on the edge of the brook, where it had stopped when its owner angrily kicked it out of his way.
Having noted these evidences of the extreme poverty and utter shiftlessness of the campers, the young hunter turned his attention to the figure before the fire, who still stood and gazed at him as if he were spellbound.
The boy was somewhat surprised at the result of his hurried observations, for he saw at once that the camper was not a born plainsman. Beyond a doubt he had known better times. His clothing, as well as a certain indefinable air and manner which are inseparable from those who have all their lives been accustomed to good society, loudly proclaimed these facts.
He looked like a broken-down gentleman, but still there was something of the backwoods about him, too. A stiff hat that had once been black covered his long uncombed hair, and his clothing was all of the finest broadcloth, and cut in faultless style; but his trousers were worn in a pair of heavy cowhide boots, and a glaring red shirt-collar was turned down over the collar of his coat. He was young in years, but wore a full beard and mustache, the latter having been long and carefully cultivated, while the whiskers were of recent growth.
Oscar took all these little points in at a glance, and was about to turn away with an apology for his intrusion, when something in the carriage of the head and the position assumed by the camper caused him to pause long enough to look him over a second time. He had never seen the face before, that was certain; but there was something about the form that seemed familiar to him.
“It is nothing but a foolish notion of mine, of course,” said Oscar to himself, as he drew in the reins preparatory to turning his pony about.
Then speaking aloud, he said:
“I didn’t mean, sir, to jump over in your camp in this unceremonious way. I wasn’t aware there was anyone here. I wish you good-day!”
To Oscar’s unbounded surprise, the reply that came across the brook was a volley of violent imprecations. They were called forth, not by anger, apparently, but by overwhelming amazement; and the strangest part of the whole proceeding was that they were uttered by a familiar and well-known voice—a voice that Oscar had not heard for many a long month.
The effect of this interchange of compliments was astonishing. The camper came close to the bank of the stream, and leaning forward until his body was bent almost double, shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed fixedly at Oscar, who, having suddenly grown too weak to keep his feet in his stirrups, was obliged to cling to the horn of his saddle with both hands, in order to keep his swaying body from toppling over headlong to the ground.