Before he could advance any further, he caught sight of a man, who moved silently forward between him and the horse, where he could be seen with greater distinctness.  He held his rifle in hand, and seemed disturbed at the action of his horse, which was clearly an admonition for him to be on his guard.

The scout studied him for a minute, and then cautiously raised the hammer of his rifle.  Guarded as was the movement, the faint click caught the ear of the other, who started, and was on the point of leaping back, when Sut called out: 

“Stop, or I’ll bore a hole through yer!”

The figure did not move.

“Come forward and surrender.”

The form remained like a statue.

“Throw down that gun or I’ll shoot.”

This brought a response, which came in the shape of a well-known voice: 

“Not while I have the spirit of a man left, as me uncle obsarved when his wife commanded him to come down from a tree that she might pummel him.  How are ye, old boy?”

The scout had suspected the identity of his friend from the first, and had made the attempt to frighten him from the innate love of the thing.  The two grasped hands cordially and were rejoiced beyond measure at this fortunate meeting.

Mickey explained that he had not been scratched by a bullet, nor had his horse suffered injury.  It was a most singular escape indeed.  But no more singular than that of the scout himself, who had received mercy at the hands of Lone Wolf, who had never been known to be guilty of such a weakness.  It had been a providential deliverance all around, and the men could not be otherwise than in the best sprits.

“The next thing is to hunt up the younker,” said the scout, as they sat upon the the ground discussing incidents of the past few days.  “I’m a little troubled about him, ’cause we’ve been away longer than we expected, and some of the varmints may have got on his trail.”

“How far from this place do ye reckon him to be?”

“That’s powerful hard to tell, but it can’t be much less than a mile, and that’s a good ways in such a hilly country as this.  Yer can’t git over it faster than yer kin run.”

“But ye know the way thar, as I understand ye to remark?”

The scout signified that he would have no more trouble in reaching it then in making his way across a room.  They decided, though, that the best thing they could do was to wait where they were until daylight, and then take up the hunt.  They remained talking and smoking for an hour or two longer, neither closing their eyes in slumber, although the occasion was improved to its utmost by their animals.  The scout was capable of losing a couple of nights’ rest without being materially effected thereby, while Mickey’s experience almost enabled him to do the same.

As soon as it was fairly light the two were on the move, Sut leading the course in the direction of the spot where they had left Fred Munson the day before, and which he had vacated very suddenly.  They were picking their way along as best they could, when they struck a small stream, when the scout paused so suddenly that his comrade inquired the cause.