He was dressed in a suit of dun-colored deer-skin; and a close-fitting coon-skin cap, from which dangled the tail, covered his head. A long rifle, which evidently had seen considerable service, rested across the saddle-bow, and a large buckhorn-handled knife peeped from the folds of his hunting-shirt. A powder-horn slung at one side, and a small tomahawk stuck in his belt, completed his outfit.
Such was the appearance of Nathan Rogers, well known throughout that region as Wild Nat, trapper and Indian-fighter.
As he rode slowly along, his eyes bent on the ground, a superficial observer would have pronounced him in a deep reverie; but, from the suspicious glance which he frequently threw about him, it was evident that he was on the look-out for any danger that might be near.
“Gittin’ purty near noon,” he said, at last, speaking aloud, as was his habit when alone—“purty near noon, an’ I sw’ar I’m gittin’ e’ena’most famished. I shall be a mere skileton, purty shortly, ef I don’t git a leetle something in the provender line. Guess I’ll make fur thet clump of timber, an’ brile a slice of antelope.”
He raised himself in his stirrups, and swept the plain with swift, piercing glances.
“Nothin’ in sight,” he muttered, dropping to his seat. “Nary an Injun tew be seen. Gittin’ mighty quiet, lately; hain’t seen one of the pesky critters in a week. Git up, Rocky.”
He turned his horse toward a small clump of trees about half a mile distant, and rode rapidly forward. As he neared the grove, his former appearance of carelessness gave place to one of intense watchfulness. His keen gray eyes roved restlessly along the edge of the timber; his movements were slow and wary—every motion being instinct with a caution that long habit had made second nature. When at the edge of the grove, he stopped to listen, rising once more in his stirrups to look about him.
“Nary livin’ thing here ’cept me an’ the squirrels,” he muttered, after a protracted survey of the premises. “So, Rocky,” with a pat on his horse’s head, “we’ll stop, an’ have a bite.”
He slipped to the ground, unfastened the saddle-girth, and left the horse to graze, and then, placing his rifle close at hand, built a fire beside a fallen trunk, and proceeded to cut some slices of meat, a large piece of which hung at his saddle-bow, and place them to broil on the coals.
He had nearly finished his repast, when he suddenly sprung to his feet, grasped his rifle, and turned, in an attitude of defense, toward the south. His quick ear had caught the sound of danger.