The nearest approach to a smile that Big Thompson could command overspread his face, as he removed his pipe from his mouth long enough to address this question to his employer.
It was the first time he had in any way referred to the incidents that had happened at the ranchman’s dug-out.
The guide was seated on his blanket in front of a cheerful fire; and Oscar stood in front of the open door, watching the storm that was raging.
The air was filled with snow-flakes, and the evergreens behind the cabin were bending low before a furious gale.
The short winter’s day was drawing to a close, and as the young hunter gazed at the fading landscape before him, and listened to the howling of the wind, he thrust his hands deeper into his pockets, shivered almost involuntarily, and thanked his lucky stars that he was comfortably sheltered.
Big Thompson’s question aroused him from his revery. He stepped back into the cabin, closed the door behind him, and dropped the heavy bar that secured it in its place.
“Yes, I did think so,” said he, as he turned down his coat-collar and shook the snow-flakes from his cap. “All you did for me was to take that gun out of Ike Barker’s hands. After you had done that, you stood and looked on with the utmost indifference.”
“Wal, no,” answered the guide slowly. “I heard every word he said to ye, an’ if I hadn’t knowed the man I might have jined in the talk ye had with him. But, ye see, I knowed him. I knowed the mu-el was his’n, kase he said so; but that didn’t pester me none, fur I was sartin that when he found out who ye was an’ all about ye, he wouldn’t make no furse about the critter. That’s why I kept my mouth shet. I knowed ye wasn’t in no danger.”
Oscar and his guide were now fairly settled in their camp in the foot-hills; and if Leon Parker could have looked in upon them that stormy night he would have gone into ecstasies.
Their journey from Ike Barker’s ranch had been accomplished without the occurrence of any incident worthy of note.