“Something strange in this young man’s history!” said he to himself, though he had the delicacy not to demand an explanation of the ambiguous speech just made. “Well, it’s not my affair, I suppose!”
Then, addressing himself to Herbert, he said aloud—
“Do you agree, Master Vaughan, to eat a forest breakfast of my providing?”
“Indeed, with pleasure,” answered Herbert. “Then I must ring for my servants.” As he said this, the hunter raised his curved horn to his lips and blew a long, tremulous blast.
“That should procure us company and something to eat, master,” said he, allowing the horn to drop back to its place.
“Hark!” he continued, the instant after, “there are some of my fellows. I thought they could not be far off.”
As he spoke the sound of a horn was heard reverberating through the woods; and then another, and another—until nearly a dozen could be distinguished, yet all in different directions. They were evidently answers to the signal he had sounded.
“So, Master Vaughan,” he resumed, with an air expressive of triumph, though in a restrained and modest way, “you see these vultures would not have had it all their own way? My hawks were too near for that. Not the less am I beholden to you, Master Vaughan. I did not think it worth while to call my people. I knew the poltroons would not venture beyond a little swaggering talk. See! they come!”
“Who?”
“The Maroons!”