They had not met on the journey, because the two bands of the tribe were acting independently of each other.
We will leave them at this point and ask the reader to return to another part of the plain over which Tolly and Betty had galloped so furiously.
It is a small hollow, at the bottom of which a piece of marshy ground has encouraged the growth of a few willows. Paul Bevan had selected it as a suitable camping-ground for the night, and while Paddy Flinders busied himself with the kettle and frying-pan, he and Fred Westly went among the bushes to procure firewood.
Fred soon returned with small twigs sufficient to kindle the fire; his companion went on further in search of larger boughs and logs.
While Fred was busily engaged on hands and knees, blowing the fire into a flame, a sharp “hallo!” from his companion caused him to look up.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Goliath of Gath—or his brother!” said Paddy, pointing to a little eminence behind which the sun had but recently set.
The horseman, who had come to a halt on the eminence and was quietly regarding them, did indeed look as if he might have claimed kinship with the giant of the Philistines, for he and his steed looked stupendous. No doubt the peculiarity of their position, with the bright sky as a glowing background, had something to do with the gigantic appearance of horse and man, for, as they slowly descended the slope towards the fire, both of them assumed a more natural size.
The rider was a strange-looking as well as a large man, for he wore a loose shooting-coat, a tall wideawake with a broad brim, blue spectacles with side-pieces to them, and a pair of trousers which appeared to have been made for a smaller man, as, besides being too tight, they were much too short. Over his shoulder was slung a green tin botanical box. He carried no visible weapons save a small hatchet and a bowie-knife, though his capacious pockets might easily have concealed half a dozen revolvers.
“Goot night, my frunds,” said the stranger, in broken English, as he approached.