"Well, I will get you something, for I am going to treat you a deuced sight better than you deserve, after your lies about me."
"They were lies, all of them; but I will confess—yes, I will confess!"
"Just stick to that, old fellow, and my word for it, you'll never have cause to repent doing so," cheerily replied Poynter. "Now, Mr. Crees, if you'll just stay here to keep our friend company, like, I'll go get something for him to eat."
"Gladly; for I, too, have something to ask Mr. Sprowl," returned the outlaw. "And, if you will, please give a whistle when you come back; won't you?"
"Certainly, if you wish it."
"I do. But don't be offended," he added, appealingly. "I will explain it all to you soon. And any thing else that may appear strange, that you wish to know. Will that do?"
"Finely," cordially replied Poynter, pressing his strange friend's hand, and then dashing down the hillside to the encampment-fires.
He cut some venison steaks, and soon had them broiling merrily, after which he prepared hot water for coffee, and stirred up a "hoe-cake," standing it upon a strip of elm-bark to bake before the glowing embers. Evidently he meant to keep his word to Sprowl, of treating that worthy better than he deserved.
When his cookery was completed, Poynter gave the desired signal, and when he reached the tree found that the outlaw was sitting in the same spot, while Sprowl had bowed his head between his hands, evidently deeply moved by some emotion, either of fear or remorse. But the young man quelled the curiosity he felt, for he knew that Crees' word might be trusted, and that ere long all would be explained.
"Well, old fellow, here you are," cheerily cried Poynter, as he placed the food and drink before Sprowl, with not a trace of rancor in his tones. "And do you see how fast you can demolish them, while I do a little talking. But mind you, don't answer before you've weighed well what you say, as you may have to swear to it. Do you hear?"