“We jist have,” cried Big Waller in surprise. “If you’ve seed him, I guess ye’d as well take us to his whereabouts.”
“See you yonder pine?” said Dick, pointing back in the direction whence he had come. “One day’s journey beyond that, as the crow flies, will bring you to a valley, level and well watered, with plenty o’ beaver in it. You’ll find him there.”
Without waiting a reply Dick turned to ride away.
“I say, stranger,” cried Waller (Dick paused), “air you, or air you not, the Wild Man o’ the West?”
“Wild fools of the West call me so,” replied Dick with a ferocious frown, that went far to corroborate the propriety of the cognomen in the opinion of the trappers.
“Wall, I tell ’ee wot it is, stranger, Wild Man or not, I guess you’ll ha’ to take us to our comrade yourself, for I’m inclined to opine that you know more about him than’s good for ye; so if ye try to ride off, I’ll see whether a ball—sixteen to the pound—’ll not stop ye, for all yer bigness.”
A grim smile curled Dick’s moustache as he replied, “If ye think that a trapper’s word ain’t to be trusted, or that committin’ murder ’ll do yer comrade a service, here’s your chance—fire away!”
Dick wheeled about and cantered coolly away into the thickest part of the forest, leaving the trappers gazing at each other in amazement. Bertram was the first to speak.
“Oh, why did you not delay him a few seconds longer? See, I have him here—all but the legs of his splendid charger.”
The others burst into a laugh.