It was the dark stranger who startled the guide out of his reverie, by the abruptly-put question. The person addressed gave him a quick, keen look, before he answered:
"I was just thinkin' that some o' them pesky Injuns may have been sneaking about, stealing things last night, when the storm came up. They may have carried off the girl, under cover of the hurrycane, which they wouldn't a' done at a safer time. 'Tain't likely, but it's the only thing I can think of."
"I am afraid of it myself. Do you know what direction they would be most likely to take, in such a case?"
"Wal—yis! I rather guess I know some o' their lurkin places, stranger. I know all the whereabouts purty much of that tribe that paid us a visit yesterday. By jingo, stranger, I'm off! I'll just put some biscuits and buffalo in my pocket, and be off. This train will have to stop here a couple o' days, sartain; and if I ain't back by that time they can proceed without me—that's all. Wish I had a hoss—but I must make a mule do."
"Not so," said the stranger. "I own two horses in my company. You shall have one, I will take the other, and we will go together."
"You?" queried Buckskin Joe, in surprise.
"Yes. I am traveling for adventure, and what more novel adventure could I expect than to go after a lost maiden in company of the best guide this side of Kit Carson? Don't think I'll be a drawback to you. I'm an excellent shot."
"The sight of danger won't make you narvous, I'll be bound," said the guide, measuring the cool air and clear eye of his companion with a favorable glance.
Barely waiting for the needed refreshment of a cup of hot coffee, the two men, thus curiously thrown together on a doubtful venture, started out over the illimitable plain, burdened only with their weapons and a light wallet of provisions, and followed by the anxious eyes and hearts of the emigrants.