“Well, you will save all that by taking me in his place; and that consideration ought to have some weight with you, if you are as careful of the committee’s money as you pretend to be. When you go back to the post, tell him that you don’t want him—that you have made other arrangements—and be ready to meet me in the sage-brush to-morrow at sunrise. I shall want a pony, of course, and while you are about it you might as well bring me a rifle and a supply of ammunition. In the meantime, I will shake my partner, and we’ll set out together. When we find a place that suits us, we’ll go into camp, and while you are securing specimens I will put in the time in catching wolves. What do you say to it?”
“I say that there are many objections to your plan,” replied Oscar. “In the first place, my instructions are to hire a guide, and I have done so. If I should discharge Big Thompson, now that I have engaged him——”
“Big Thompson?” interrupted Tom. “He isn’t your guide, I hope?”
“He is; and he was recommended to me by the colonel commanding the post.”
“I don’t care who recommended him, he’s a rascal.”
“Do you know him?” asked Oscar.
“Not personally; but my partner does, and he doesn’t know any good of him, either. I wouldn’t pass a minute alone in the hills with him for all the money there is in the States.”
Oscar called to mind the kindly face of his guide, and the clear, honest-looking eyes which had gazed straight into his own whenever their owner spoke to him, and contrasted the man to whom that face and those eyes belonged with the sneaking ruffian he had met in the sage-brush; and the conclusion at which he arrived was that there was nothing in the world that would induce him to change companions with Tom.
Before he would do that he would throw up his situation and look about for some other occupation that would support himself and his mother.
Believing that Tom’s “partner” had some good cause for hating Big Thompson, Oscar said no more about him, but went on to state the other objections he had to Tom’s plan.