Chapter 3 - Page 2

stranger
appeared in open view, he stalked slowly towards him, crouching to the
earth like a panther about to take his leap.

"Call in your dog," said a firm, deep, manly voice, in tones of
friendship, rather than of menace; "I love a hound, and should be
sorry to do an injury to the animal."

"You hear what is said about you, pup?" the trapper answered; "come
hither, fool. His growl and his bark are all that is left him now; you
may come on, friend; the hound is toothless."

The stranger profited by the intelligence. He sprang eagerly forward,
and at the next instant stood at the side of Ellen Wade. After
assuring himself of the identity of the latter, by a hasty but keen
glance, he turned his attention, with a quickness and impatience, that
proved the interest he took in the result, to a similar examination of
her companion.

"From what cloud have you fallen, my good old man?" he said in a
careless, off-hand, heedless manner that seemed too natural to be
assumed: "or do you actually live, hereaway, in the prairies?"

"I have been long on earth, and never I hope nigher to heaven, than I
am at this moment," returned the trapper; "my dwelling, if dwelling I
may be said to have, is not far distant. Now may I take the liberty
with you, that you are so willing to take with others? Whence do you
come, and where is your home?"

"Softly, softly; when I have done with my catechism, it will be time
to begin with yours. What sport is this, you follow by moonlight? You
are not dodging the buffaloes at such an hour!"

"I am, as you see, going from an encampment of travellers, which lies
over yonder swell in the land, to my own wigwam; in doing so, I wrong
no man."

"All fair and true. And you got this young woman to show you the way,
because she knows it so well and you know so little about it
yourself!"

"I met her, as I have met you, by accident. For ten tiresome years
have I dwelt on these open fields, and never, before to-night, have I
found human beings with white skins on them, at this hour. If my
presence here gives offence, I am sorry; and will go my way. It is
more than likely that when your young friend has told her story, you
will be better given to believe mine.

"Friend!" said the youth, lifting a cap of skins from his head, and
running his fingers leisurely through a dense mass of black and shaggy
locks, "if I have ever laid eyes on the girl before to-night, may I--"

"You've said enough, Paul," interrupted the female, laying her hand on
his mouth, with a familiarity that gave something very like the lie