“Of course I won’t; you’re my teacher and friend, so I’ll keep your secrets.”
His queer face lighted up with pleasure. “Yes, I’m your friend, and if I knew you had a little liking for me, my old heart would be warmed and rejoiced.”
I stretched out my hand to him, surprised and touched. “I can easily give you that pleasure, dear Sam,” I said. “You may be sure I honestly care for you with real respect and affection.”
He shook my hand, looking so delighted that even my young self-sufficiency could perceive how lonely this rough, cranky old frontiersman was, and how great was his yearning for human sympathy.
I fastened Dick Stone’s horse with the lasso, and mounting mine, as Sam got on Nancy, we rode away.
“She’s been educated, this new Nancy, in a very good school,” Sam remarked presently. “I see at every step she is going to be all right, and is regaining the old knowledge which she had forgotten among the mustangs. I hope she has not only temperament but character.”
“We’ve had two good days, Sam,” I said.
“Bad ones for me, except in getting Nancy; and bad for you, too, in one way, but mighty honorable.”
“Oh, I’ve done nothing; I came West to get experience. I hope to have a chance at other sport.”
“Well, I hope it will come more easily; yesterday your life hung by a hair. You risked too much. Never forget you’re a greenhorn tenderfoot. The idea of creeping up to shoot a buffalo in the eye! Did ever any one hear the like? But though hunting buffaloes is dangerous, bear-hunting is far more so.”