“But you won't leave him here? If you'll bury him, I'll help you.”
“Not now, boy. Since you make a point of it, I'll come round to-morrow, and dig a hole to put him in. I'll take the liberty of carryin' home his shootin' iron. He won't need it where he's gone.”
The two parted in a friendly manner, and Herbert turned his face homeward, grave and thoughtful.
CHAPTER XXXII. THE BLAZING STAR MINE.
Toward noon the next day George Melville and Herbert were resting from a country trip, sitting on a rude wooden settee which our hero had made of some superfluous boards, and placed directly in front of the house, when a figure was seen approaching with long strides from the shadow of the neighboring woods. It was not until he was close at hand that Herbert espied him.
“Why, it's Mr. Holden!” he exclaimed.
“Jack Holden, my lad,” said the hunter, correcting him. “Is this the man you're living with?”
Jack Holden was unconventional, and had been brought up in a rude school so far as manners were concerned. It did not occur to him that his question might have been better framed.
“I am Mr. Melville,” answered that gentleman, seeing that Herbert looked embarrassed. “Herbert is my constant and valued companion.”