“The party appears to be a very small one,” said Kent, rising in his stirrups to look at the distant object, which was so far off as to look to him like an indistinct mass, which might be buffalo, or Indians, or whites, though Wild Nat declared it was a party of seven Indians.
“My eyes are purty considerable sharp,” he said, in answer to Kent’s wondering remark, concerning the keenness of his vision. “In fact, I never yit saw the man who could see as fur as I could. Them Injuns are goin’ off north. I’d like tew have a chance to sp’ile sev’ral of thar purty picters. Blarst thar karkasses, anyhow!”
“Nat,” said Kent, suddenly, “what makes you feel so bitter a hatred of the Indians?”
“Beavers!” ejaculated the trapper, “I should think I’d hed reason. Younker, ten year ago I hed a little cabin an’ a wife an’ tew children. I war livin’ peaceably an’ mindin’ my own consarns. One night a band of Injuns come, took me prisoner, an’ butchered my wife an’ children afore my very eyes. Then they burnt my cabin, an’ took me off for torture. I got away the second night, an’ left seven dead red-skins as part pay. Since then, I’ve been an Injun-hater, an’ I’ll lift the head-gear off of every red devil thet I cum acrost.”
The trapper relapsed into silence, and spoke no more until they came upon several buffalo, feeding at some distance from the main herd. One of these the old trapper shot, and, after securing a considerable quantity of the meat, they again rode on, and sunset found them near Deep Creek, a small stream that had its source in the mountains, and after making a winding course for many miles, was finally lost in the Sweetwater river.
Wild Nat halted at a little distance from the stream, among a thick growth of timber.
“Guess we’ll stop here. Tie yer hoss an’ I’ll show ye my den. This ar’ ’bout as nice scenery as ye generally find. This stream hurryin’ along over the stuns, an’ the woods here, an’ the mount’ins up thar—I can’t see how any one can like the towns. Give me the wild peraries, an’ the woods, an’ mount’ins, an’ git away with yer towns an’ cities! Here, foller me.”
The two men turned back from the stream, and pursued a narrow, deep ravine, extending back toward the mountains that towered above them; the sides of which were covered with luxuriant bushes and wild vines tangled about them, often forming impenetrable thickets.
Among these the men advanced, the trapper leading the way, and neither of them aware of the dark face that looked after them from a thicket of bushes, nor the pair of malignant eyes that followed their movements with such keen scrutiny.
The trapper continued up the ravine the distance of ten rods, and then thrusting aside the thick vines from one side, removed a large stone, revealing a small, dark opening. Into this he crept, hastily calling Kent to follow. The young man obeyed, and in an instant the stone slid into its place, and the twisted vines, relieved of its support, fell down over it, effectually concealing all trace of the opening.