"My fault as much as yours, sir," said Rube. "I oughter ha' fastened the trap-door."
"Well, anyhow," resumed Kiddie, "you and I are going to be good friends. You see, we have a good deal in common. You've spent your boyhood in this camp, so did I mine. Your father was an English gentleman, so was mine. Your mother is a Pawnee Indian, so was mine."
"It's a proud day fer me, sir, your comin' back here, an' me walkin' alongside o' you," faltered Rube. "An' if you're shapin' ter stay here for a while, I shall learn a lot. You c'n teach me heaps about trappin' the wild critters, an' livin' in the woods, an' scoutin'; about horses, too, an' buffaloes an' Injuns."
He paused, surprised at the length of his speech.
"Yes," nodded Kiddie. "We'll go on the trail together. We'll go trapping and fishing and shooting. You shall be my boy scout."
"But thar's one thing as I'm hankerin' to learn more'n all else, sir," Rube went on boldly. "You was sayin' right now as my father was a English gentleman. Well, 'tain't possible fer me to be that, seein' as I was born here in th' United States; but I guess thar's such a thing as a 'Merican gentleman, an' maybe you'd teach me how ter be one o' them."
Kiddie was silent for some moments as they crossed the clearing in front of the cabin. But at length he said—
"Rather a tall order, Rube, my lad. And it's not just like teaching you to master a bucking broncho or to trap beaver. It's a longer process. But at least it's an experiment worth attempting, and we'll try it together."
"That big bay pony of yours don't feel anyways at home in the stall where I've put him," said Rube, as they went up the veranda steps. "I've given him a drink an' a feed, an' I've put his saddle an' bridle in the best bedroom, where they won't take no harm. I'm sorry t' say, sir, as thar's a scratch of a bullet on the saddle. Leather's some torn; but I reckon mother c'n fix it up; same's she done my moccasins when I tore 'em in the bush, trackin' a lynx."
"The saddle is of no consequence if Regent is all right," Kiddie assured him. "Regent is the name of the bay. He's an English hunter; doesn't know anything about the work of a prairie pony."