Securing his boat to the stake, he followed me up the bank of the river; and on the way to the house I told him what had happened just as I returned from my fishing trip. We entered the log house, where old Matt had kindled a huge fire to cook our evening meal.
"Good evening, Mr. Rockwood," said my friend, as politely as though he had been speaking to the President of the United States.
"Your sarvant, Mr. Mellowtone," replied Matt, who always labored to be as courteous as his visitor, though not always with the same success.
"You have been unfortunate, I learn from Phil Farringford."
"Yes; them pesky redskins is gittin' troublesome, and I'm afraid we shall hev to wipe out some on 'em."
"We must not allow them to steal," added Mr. Mellowtone, decidedly.
"No; Phil is goin' out arter 'em. They stole my jug of fire-water, and they'll be as drunk as owls afore long."
"If neither he nor you object, I will go out with him."
"I hain't no kind o' objection. I should be much obleeged to you if you help git back them hosses."
"I shall be glad to have you go with me, Mr. Mellowtone," I replied, as I put the pan of fish on the fire.