"Almost there," he whispered eagerly, as he rode along the corrals and was greeted by a tumbling lot of sheep-dogs. "Will it be of use?"
Before he reached the gate he was met by Hardy, who, bare-headed, had left the dinner-table to welcome a visitor whom, from the porch, all had decided was a stranger.
The host scattered the dogs. There were a few words, a shake of hands, and they could hear Hardy's hearty invitation to dismount.
Meanwhile, Aunty Luce was bustling about as fast as her stout, short form would allow her, arranging a place at the table for the late guest, and thanking her stars that a real gentleman was to be company for them once more—her opinion that he was a gentleman having foundation in the fact that he wore "store-clothes" instead of the trappings of buckskin affected by the natives of the Kootenai.
They found he was possessed of more decided points due the idea of a gentleman, both in breeding and education, and before many remarks were exchanged, the rest of the family, as well as Aunty, were congratulating themselves on this acquisition from the world.
"Yes, I am altogether a stranger up here," he said pleasantly, in answer to a query; "and at Holland's they told me there was one of my Statesmen up in this park; so I asked the way and started west, instead of north, as I had thought of doing."
"Doing a bit o' prospectin', then?" was MacDougall's query.
It was a visiting-day of his, and he had been watching the new-comer's face with scrutinizing eyes ever since the first words of self-introduction, in which the visitor's name had been overlooked.
"Well—yes," answered the other slowly, as if he was not decided, or had not anticipated the question.
"I thought as much, since ye carry no hunting gear," remarked the trapper; "and in this country a man is likely to be the one thing or the other."