Either it was fact, or his imagination was uncommonly lively, as he saw six large heads nod slowly and with dignity, but with emphasis.
"All of us?"
The six heads again moved slowly and with dignity.
"And with you, our faithful four-footed friends, and with the packs that are so needful to us?"
The six heads nodded a little faster, but with the same dignity. Will was just putting the coffee on to boil when he asked the last question and received the last answer, and he stopped for a moment to stare at the six animals, which were still regarding him with their large, contemplative eyes. Could he refuse to believe what he thought he saw? If fancy were not fact it often became fact a little later. Those were certainly honest beasts and he knew by experience that they were truthful, too, because he had never yet caught them in a lie. Animals did not know how to lie, wherein they were different from human beings, and while human beings were not prophets, at least in modern times, animals, for all he knew, might be, and he certainly intended to believe that the six, for the present, enjoyed the prophetic afflatus.
"I accept the omens as you give them," he said aloud. "From this moment I dismiss from my mind all doubt concerning the present affair."
Then he found himself believing his own words. The omens continued to be favorable. The coffee boiled with uncommon readiness and the strips of venison that he fried over the coals gave forth an aroma of unparalleled richness. Filling two large tin cups with the brown fluid he carried them to the watchers at the mouth of the pass, who drained them, each at a single draught.
"Best you ever made, Will," said Boyd.
"Ez good ez anybody ever made, young William," said the Little Giant.
"Now I'll bring you strips of venison and crackers," said Will, much pleased, "and after you've eaten them you can have another cup of coffee apiece."