’—­the mildest mannered man
  That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat.’

I don’t mean to say that Arthur would cut any body’s throat, but I do say that if he should happen to get angry at any of us, we shall wish him safe in Kentucky, where he belongs.  I can’t very well avoid introducing him, but, after what I have said, you will understand that I do not indorse him.”

The conversation was brought to a close by the near approach of Arthur Vane, who presently dashed up to the porch, and dismounted.  Frank and Archie made a rapid examination of the new-comer.  He was dressed in a full suit of buckskin—­hunting-shirt, leggins, and moccasins, the latter ornamented with bright-colored beads—­which set off his tall, slender, well-knit frame to good advantage.  He evidently possessed a fair share of muscle and agility, and that, according to Archie’s way of thinking, was a great recommendation.  He little dreamed that his own pluck, strength, and endurance would one day be severely tested by that boy in buckskin.

Arthur’s weapons were objects of no less curiosity to the cousins than his dress.  Instead of the short, light rifle in which the boys of that country took so much delight, and which was so handy to be used on horseback, he carried a double-barrel shot-gun as long as himself, elaborately ornamented, and the boys judged, from the way he handled it, that it must be very heavy.  From his belt protruded the buckhorn handle of a sheath-knife, and the bright, polished head of an Indian tomahawk.  The lasso was nowhere to be seen.

When the boys had noted these points, they glanced at the face of the new-comer.  It was a handsome face, and might have made a favorable impression on them, had it not been for the haughty glances which its owner directed toward them as he rode up.

“He looks at us as though he thought we had no business here,” whispered Archie, as Johnny went down the steps to receive the visitor.

“A second Charley Morgan,” replied his cousin.

“If he is blessed with Morgan’s amiable disposition,” returned Archie, “we’ll see fun before we are done with him.”

“Frank Nelson,” said Johnny, leading his visitor upon the porch, “this is our new neighbor, Arthur Vane.”

“Colonel of the Second Kentucky Cavalry during the Florida war, and, for a short time captain of the scouts attached to the head-quarters of the general commanding the department of the plains,” said Arthur, in dignified tones, drawing himself up to his full height, and looking at Frank as if to ask, What do you think of me, anyhow?

“How do you do?” said Frank, accepting Vane’s proffered hand.  He did not say that he was glad to see him, or happy to make his acquaintance, for he wasn’t.

“Archie Winters, Colonel Vane,” continued Johnny, “formerly commander of the Second Kentucky—­ahem!”

Johnny was going on to repeat Arthur’s pompous speech, when he saw Archie biting his lip, and knew that it was time for him to stop.