Once at the huge farm, or plantation of Captain Cumby, that genial gentleman made them feel at home; and then, after a splendid dinner in which game and fish from the streams formed a part, Crockett took both Cumby and Dolph aside and plunged at once into a long, low-voiced conversation.
The two boys sitting comfortably in the two big cane chairs heard a series of chuckles and guffaws from the three.
“The colonel’s got some sort of a joke on foot,” said Ned.
“And it’s about this matter of ours,” said Walter. “He’s hiding it from us, because I can see he wants to make it a surprise.”
That night as the host, Crockett and the two boys were sitting quietly together in the captain’s big living-room, the young fellows listening to the stories of the veterans, Dolph entered, a broad smile upon his wrinkled, tanned face.
“Well, colonel,” said he, to Crockett, “you’re a cute one. They did just what you said they’d do.”
Captain Cumby gave a shout of laughter.
“What!” cried he. “Were you talking to them, Dolph?”
Dolph nodded, still grinning gleefully.
“According to instructions,” said he, “I just took to hanging around a fence corner. And by and by a stranger comes up the road—one of the men I see leave the steamboat in such a hurry. And he gets me in conversation about the country. I told him I thought Arkansas was a great place, but that I was going to take the trail back to Texas to-morrow at sundown. He perked up at that and got almighty interested.