Chapter 10 - Page 2

guests, was to be explained by the entire
difference which existed in their respective appearances.

While the exterior of the naturalist was decidedly pacific, not to say
abstracted, that of the new comer was distinguished by an air of
vigour, and a front and step which it would not have been difficult to
have at once pronounced to be military.

He wore a forage-cap of fine blue cloth, from which depended a soiled
tassel in gold, and which was nearly buried in a mass of exuberant,
curling, jet-black hair. Around his throat he had negligently fastened
a stock of black silk. His body was enveloped in a hunting-shirt of
dark green, trimmed with the yellow fringes and ornaments that were
sometimes seen among the border-troops of the Confederacy. Beneath
this, however, were visible the collar and lapels of a jacket, similar
in colour and cloth to the cap. His lower limbs were protected by
buckskin leggings, and his feet by the ordinary Indian moccasins. A
richly ornamented, and exceedingly dangerous straight dirk was stuck
in a sash of red silk net-work; another girdle, or rather belt, of
uncoloured leather contained a pair of the smallest sized pistols, in
holsters nicely made to fit, and across his shoulder was thrown a
short, heavy, military rifle; its horn and pouch occupying the usual
places beneath his arms. At his back he bore a knapsack, marked by the
well known initials that have since gained for the government of the
United States the good-humoured and quaint appellation of Uncle Sam.

"I come in amity," the stranger said, like one too much accustomed to
the sight of arms to be startled at the ludicrously belligerent
attitude which Dr. Battius had seen fit to assume. "I come as a
friend; and am one whose pursuits and wishes will not at all interfere
with your own."

"Harkee, stranger," said Paul Hover, bluntly; "do you understand
lining a bee from this open place into a wood, distant, perhaps, a
dozen miles?"

"The bee is a bird I have never been compelled to seek," returned the
other, laughing; "though I have, too, been something of a fowler in my
time."

"I thought as much," exclaimed Paul, thrusting forth his hand frankly,
and with the true freedom of manner that marks an American borderer.
"Let us cross fingers. You and I will never quarrel about the comb,
since you set so little store by the honey. And now, if your stomach
has an empty corner, and you know how to relish a genuine dew-drop
when it falls into your very mouth, there lies the exact morsel to put
into it. Try it, stranger; and having tried it, if you don't call it
as snug a fit as you have made since--How long ar' you from the