“Where did ye first catch the light of Mickey O’Rooney’s illegant and expressive countenance?”

“I saw yer stop to camp this morning a good ways up the pass, whar yer cooked yer piece of antelope meat, and swallowed enough to last yer for a week.”

“It was you that shot the grizzly bear just as he was going to kill me?” inquired Fred, with a pleased look in the scarred face of the scout, who smiled in turn as he answered: 

“I have a ’spicion it war me and nobody else.”

“Why didn’t ye come forward and introduce yerself?” inquired Mickey, “it was all a mistake to think that we felt too proud to notice ye, even if ye ain’t as good-looking as meself.”

“Wal, I thought I’d watch yer awhile, believing I could do yer more service than by jining in, as was showed by what took place arterwards.  Whar would yer have been if I’d got shet up in that trap with yer?  Lone Wolf would’ve had our ha’r long ago.”

“But how did ye manage to fool the pack into giving us a chance to craap out?”

“That was easy enough when yer understand it.”

“I thought it would come aisier to a man who understood how to do it than it did to one who didn’t know anything about it.”

“Arter picking off one or two of the varmints, that made Lone Wolf mad, and he sent out a couple of his warriors to wipe me out.  He didn’t think I knowed his game, but I did, and when they got round to where I was I just slid ’em under afore they knowed what the matter was.  When he sent a third varmint arter them, and he went back and told the chief that the first two had gone to the eternal hunting grounds, he was so all-fired mad that he left only a half dozen to watch the hole where you was to come out, while he took the rest and come arter me.”

“I know a good many of Lone Wolf’s signals,” added the scout, with a chuckle, “and arter he had been on this side for a while, I dipped down into the pass, and signaled for the rest of ’em to come.  They come, every one of ’em, and then I went for you, not certain whether yer war mashed or not.  We got away in good time to save ourselves running agin ’em.”

CHAPTER XX.

SUT’S CAMP FIRE.

“But where are Lone Wolf and his warriors?” asked Fred.

“Back yonder somewhere,” replied the scout, indifferently.  “They came over into the woods this side the pass to look for the Kiowas that have been picking off thar warriors.  It’ll take ’em some time to find the varmints, I reckon.”

“It’s mesilf that would like to ax a conundrum,” said Mickey, “provided that none of the gintlemin prisent object to the same.”

Sut gave the Irishman to understand that he was always pleased to hear any inquiry from him, if he asked it respectfully.

“The question is this:  How long are we to kape thramping along in this shtyle?  Is it to be for one wake or two, or for a month?  The raison of me making this respictful inquiry is that the laddy and mesilf have become accustomed to riding upon horses, and it goes rather rough to make the change, as Jimmy O’Brien said when he broke through the ice and was forced to take a wash, arter having done without the same thing for several months.”