“Zackly,” responded the trapper. “It war lucky I happened along. Ye see, Scip and I—”
“Is that Scip?” interrupted Kent. “I hadn’t thought to ask who it was, and the darkness prevented me from seeing. How are you, Scip? So you concluded to try life on the plains a while, eh?”
“Yes,” replied the negro. “Vic said mout as well. I’s rader feerd ob de Injins, but, he says, dar’s no danger. Looks like it, ye bein’ tied up ter brile! Wish I’d staid wid de emergrants.”
“There’s no danger, so long as you keep out of their way,” laughed Kent; “but the trouble is to keep out of reach. I flatter myself that the time I made this morning would be hard to beat, but I fell into their hands after all.”
“How war it?” asked Vic.
The young man then related the circumstances of his capture, adding:
“We have distanced our pursuers. There is nothing to be heard.”
“Gone arter thar animiles,” said Vic. “Which way is the cave?”
“South-west,” replied Kent.
“Guess we’ll p’int for thar, then,” said the trapper.