Reassured by this hearty reproof for his seeming unkindness, the man set to work with a will, and in a few moments a genial fire was blazing on the hearth, which the party enjoyed thoroughly. Glancing curiously around the little room, the Vigilantes discovered that it contained three occupants besides themselves. Placing their guns and pistols in convenient position, and stationing a sentinel to keep watch and feed the fire, the men spread their blankets on the clay surface of the enclosure, and in a few moments were locked in sleep; careful, however, first, to satisfy the eager curiosity of their entertainers, by a brief conversation about mining, stampeding, prospecting, etc., and leading them to believe that they were a party of miners, returning from an unsuccessful expedition.
Fatigued with the ride and exposure of the two previous days, the Vigilantes slept until a late hour the next morning. Two of the occupants of the cabin rose at the same time. The other, entirely enveloped in blankets, kept up a prolonged snore, whose deep bass signified that he was wrapped in profound slumber. The Vigilantes, contriving to keep four of their number in the cabin, while making preparations to depart, soon had their horses saddled; but when all was ready, one of them inquired in a careless tone,
“Who is the man that sleeps so soundly?”
“I don’t know him,” said the host.
“When did he come here?”
“At the beginning of the snowstorm, two days ago. He came in and asked permission to remain here until it was over.”
“Perhaps it’s an acquaintance. Won’t you describe him to us?”
The man complied, by giving a most accurate description of Hunter. No longer in doubt, the Vigilante went up to the bedside, and, in a loud voice, called out, “Bill Hunter!”
Hastily drawing the blanket from his face, the occupant stared wildly out upon the six armed men, asking in the same breath,
“Who’s there?”