"Whew!" ejaculated George, "don't I wish I had knocked that fellow over to-day! Guy, why don't you say thank you?"
"He's like the little boy that would not say 'thank you' for a new jack-knife," laughed Gus, "he'd rather use the old 'un fust."
In truth, Guy was so delighted with Mr. Harwood's words, and the gift that accompanied them, that he knew not what to say. To possess a gun, had long been his highest and most secret ambition, and to have one, really his own, in his hands, seemed, as he afterwards said, "far too good to be true."
"Never mind the thanks," exclaimed Mr. Harwood, as Guy vainly tried to utter something, "we understand each other, though my debt is not paid yet. You can go now and look for arrows, if you like."
But Guy thought but little of arrows, or even of his gun, for some minutes after he left the wagon, for just then four of the mules, who had not recovered from their fright, broke away from the men who were trying to quiet them, and galloped across the plains in the opposite direction to that the Indians had taken. Two young men immediately mounted the swiftest horses in the train and set off in pursuit, and a fine chase they had. Over an hour passed before they brought the refractory animals back, and an exciting time the boys had watching the race, and shouting and hurrahing when the foaming, panting creatures rushed into the camp, followed by their almost breathless pursuers.
"But this isn't finding arrows!" said Guy, at last, suddenly remembering Aggie, and the promise he had made her. And, after the train was in motion, he found two beautiful arrows, and took them to her. She accepted them with delight, telling Guy she would keep them all her life, in remembrance of that eventful day. "And so you see," she added, addressing in fancy the cross old chief that had frightened her so terribly, "I have got one of your Indian arrows, after all, and I'll keep it too. My good Guy has got a gun now, and that's more than you have, and he knows how to use it, that's more than you will ever do."
CHAPTER XI.
Two weeks after the fight with the Indians, Guy was galloping across the gently rising hills, that denoted their approach to the Rocky Mountains, in quest of game. This was the first time he had had an opportunity offered him to try his gun, as they had seen no living creature upon the desert of alkali which they had occupied more than a week in crossing, and but few among the prickly pears and sage-brush that succeeded the poisonous salts. Of the effects of the latter, each member of the party had had some experience, and all, for weeks after, complained of sore lips, chapped hands, and other pains of a like nature.