We looked in the direction whence the voice came, and saw a man appearing from behind the trees. He was small, thin, and hunchbacked, clad and armed like a red man. One could not tell whether he was an Indian or a white; his sharp-cut features indicated the former, while the tint of his face, although sunburned, was that of a white man. He was bareheaded, and his dark hair hung to his shoulders. He wore leather trousers, a hunting-shirt of the same material, and moccasins, and was armed with a knife and gun. His eyes shone with unusual intelligence, and there was nothing ridiculous in his deformity. Indeed, none but stupid and brutal men ever laugh at bodily defects; but Rattler was of this class, for as soon as he looked at the new-comer he cried:
“Hallo! What kind of a freak comes here? Do such queer things grow in the big West?”
The stranger looked at him calmly, and answered quietly: “Thank God that your limbs are sound. It is by the heart and soul that men are judged, and I should not fear a comparison with you in those respects.”
He made a gesture of contempt, and turned to me, saying: “You are strong, young sir; it is not every one can send a man flying through the air as you did just now; it was wonderful to see.” Then touching the grizzly with his foot, he added: “And this is the game we wanted, but we came too late. We discovered its tracks yesterday, and followed over hill and dale, through thick and thin, only to find the work done when we came up with it.”
“You speak in the plural; are you not alone?” I asked.
“No; I have two companions with me. But before I tell you who they are, will you introduce yourselves? You know one cannot be too cautious here, where we meet more bad men than good ones.” He glanced significantly at Rattler and his followers, but instantly added in a friendly tone: “However, one can tell a gentleman that can be trusted. I heard the last part of your discussion, and know pretty well where I stand.”
“We are surveyors, sir,” I explained. “We are locating a railroad to go through here.”
“Surveyors! Have you purchased the right to build your road?”
His face became stern as he asked the question, for which he seemed to have some reason; so I replied: “I have occupied myself with my task, and never thought of asking.”
“Ah, yes; but you must know where you are. Consider: these lands whereon we stand are the property of the Indians; they belong to the Apaches of the Mascaleros tribe. I am sure, if you are sent to survey, the ground is being marked out by the whites for some one else.”