“Let it remain!” said Boone, in a commanding tone, looking in and discovering a skull; “I once buried a friend here—he was shot down at my side by the Indians.”
“Fill up the hole agin! Posin shan’t lay on top of any of your friends!” exclaimed Sneak, likewise leaping out of the grave.
“It matters not—but do as you please,” said Boone, turning away and marking the distressed yelping of the hounds, which indicated, from some unusual cause, that they did not enjoy the chase as much as was their wont.
“Split me if he shan’t be buried somewhere else, if I have to dig the hole myself,” said Sneak, filling up the grave.
“I’ll stick by you, Sneak,” said Dan.
“Dan and me ’ll finish the job; all the rest of you may go off,” said Sneak, releasing the rest of the party from any further participation in the depositing of the remains of Posin in the earth.
“Glenn does not yet understand Ringwood and Jowler,” said Boone, still listening to the chase.
“I never heard the dogs bark that way before until to-day,” said Joe; “only that night when we killed the buffalo.”
“Something besides the buffalo caused them to do it then,” replied Boone.
“Yes, indeed—they must have known the fire was coming—but the fire can’t come now.”