“Howdy!” greeted Larry. “It shore is good to see you men—the fust we’ve come on in an awful hunt through these heah hills.”
“Thar ain’t any doubt thet you look it, friend,” replied one of the trappers.
“We’re huntin’ fer Slingerland. Do you happen to know him?”
“Knowed Al fer years. He went through hyar a week ago—jest after the big rain, wasn’t it, Bill?”
“Wal, to be exact it was eight days ago,” replied the comrade Bill.
“Was—he—alone?” asked Larry, thickly.
“Sure, an’ lookin’ sick. He lost his girl not long since, he said, an’ it broke him bad.”
“Lost her! How?”
“Wal, he was sure it wasn’t redskins,” rejoined the trapper, reflectively. “Slingerland stood in with the Sioux—traded with ‘em. He—”
“Tell me quick!” hoarsely interrupted Neale. “What happened to Allie Lee?”