This scouting party was under the immediate command of Uncle Dan. They were all experienced scouts, their rifles were of the very best make, and each was considered a marksman. Uncle Dan placed a careful guard about the premises, and then, while all the men not on duty lay wrapped in their blankets sleeping quietly on the fresh, sweet hay, he sat by the side of a smouldering camp-fire, under a large oak tree, smoking a short black pipe and wrapped in thought.
A hand was laid on his shoulder. Supposing it to be one of his men, he glanced up at the person by his side. His astonishment can better be imagined than described, when he recognized the mysterious black, who had frustrated him in the woods during the retreat from Snagtown.
That copper-face, the grizzled hair, the marvelous, bright, eyes, were not to be mistaken. It was Yellow Steve.
Uncle Dan's astonishment for a moment held him dumb. How could that man have passed the line of pickets? Gaining his voice after a few moments, he said:
"Well, I must say you are a bold 'un. I would like to know how you passed the pickets?"
"Pickets, sir?" said the stranger, seating himself by the camp-fire opposite the old scout, "are very useful on ordinary occasions, but I have spent the most of my life in hiding, in avoiding guards, in running for my life, and consequently have become very expert in the business."
"Who are you, and what do you want?"
"I am called Yellow Steve. You are to start to-morrow in search of the young lady who was abducted?"
"How did you learn that? How did you learn that any lady was abducted?"
"That, sir, is a part of my profession. I learn things by means which ordinary mortals would never dream of. I came here to give you information that will lead to the discovery of the young lady you are in search of."