I hastily completed the stringing of my fish, thinking all the time how I should conduct the expedition in which I was to engage. Indeed, I could think of nothing else; for, although I had often been away on similar excursions, it was always in company with my guardian, while on the present occasion I was to manage for myself. I forgot that I was hungry, and only lived in the brilliant schemes for recovering the horses, capturing the camp, and even wiping out the Indians themselves. I was bent on desperate deeds, and intended to convince old Matt that I was worthy of the confidence he reposed in me.
"You have been lucky to-day, Phil Farringford," said a voice near me, as I rose from the bottom of the boat to step on shore.
It was Mr. Mellowtone, an old neighbor of ours, who had squatted on an island in the river. He was a good friend of mine, and I regarded him with the utmost love and respect. He had taught me to read and write, and furnished me books, which had been both a comfort and a blessing to me.
"I have done first rate to-day," I replied. "Won't you take some of these?"
"Thank you, Phil Farringford. I will take two or three of them, if you have any to spare."
"Take as many as you can use, Mr. Mellowtone," I continued, removing from the twig some of the handsomest of the fish.
"Enough, Phil Farringford. I am not a swine, to eat more than six pounds of trout in a day," said he, with a smile.
I strung them upon a willow twig, and handed them to him, as he stood in his barge—a very aristocratic craft, which he had brought with him from the regions of civilization.
"I must be in a hurry now, Mr. Mellowtone. Won't you come up to the Castle with me? The Indians stole both of our horses this afternoon, and I am going out after them."
"That's unfortunate," he replied, running his barge upon the bank. "I will walk up to the Castle with you, and you shall tell me about it."