It was still early dawn when Hugh Lark reached the hunter's cabin. Hunter Tom was cleaning his rifle and before the door was a pot of lead melting o'er a slow fire. A bullet mould was lying near by ready for use.
"Halloo, Tom!" said Hugh, as he dismounted.
"Good-morning," said the old hunter, a little curtly and yet with some dignity, for he liked not the unceremonious manner of Hugh, though Hugh was the only intimate acquaintance he had resident in the neighbourhood.
"Going hunting?"
"No," said the old hunter, a little more friendly. "I was down the creek and saw some Shawnese."
"Why, ye don't expect a brush with them in these days of peace?"
"I tell ye," said the old man, testily, "those were the enemies of my father and, peace or no peace, I trust them not unless I have Brown Bess ready and a quantity of powder and ball nigh at hand," and he continued his polishing and oiling.
"Well, we have some work and we would like to have ye along, if ye can go." The old man made room for him on the rude bench, and looked at him inquiringly. Hugh related the purposed expedition.
"And ye think there is a silver mine, and ye want me to help find it, and if I do I go fair shares?"
"Aye," and Hugh nodded. "Ye see there are two young chaps, travellers, prospectors; they say they know ye——"