Part 31 (2/2)

Betty's not one o' that sort--dear la.s.s. She's always fair an' above board; honest an' straight for'ard. Says 'zactly what she means, an'

means what she says. Mister Tom ain't given to s.h.i.+lly-shallyin', neither. No, I'm sure they've had no quarrel.”

”Well, it's the old story,” said Drake, while a puzzled look flitted across his weather-beaten countenance, and the smoke issued more slowly from his unflagging pipe, ”the conduct o' lovers is not to be accounted for. Howsever, there's one thing I'm quite sure of--that he must be looked after.”

”D'ye think so?” said Paul. ”I'd have thought he was quite able to look arter himself.”

”Not just now,” returned the trapper; ”he's not yet got the better of his touch o' starvation, an' there's a chance o' your friend Stalker, or Buxley, which d'ye call him?”

”Whichever you like; he answers to either, or neither, as the case may be. He's best known as Stalker in these parts, though Buxley is his real name.”

”Well, then,” resumed Drake, ”there's strong likelihood o' him prowlin'

about here, and comin' across the tracks o' young Brixton; so, as I said before, he must be looked after, and I'll take upon myself to do it.”

”Well, I'll jine ye,” said Paul, ”for of course ye'll have to make up a party.”

”Not at all,” returned the trapper, with decision. ”I'll do it best alone; leastwise I'll take only little Tolly Trevor an' Leapin' Buck with me, for they're both smart an' safe lads, and are burnin' keen to learn somethin' o' woodcraft.”

In accordance with this determination, Mahoghany Drake, Leaping Buck, and little Trevor set off next day and followed Tom Brixton's trail into the mountains. It was a broad trail and very perceptible, at least to an Indian or a trapper, for Tom had a natural swagger, which he could not shake off, even in the hour of his humiliation, and, besides, he had never been an adept at treading the western wilderness with the care which the red man finds needful in order to escape from, or baffle, his foes.

”'Tis as well marked, a'most” said Drake, pausing to survey the trail, ”as if he'd bin draggin' a toboggan behind him.”

”Yet a settlement man wouldn't see much of it,” remarked little Trevor; ”eh! Buckie?”

The Indian boy nodded gravely. He emulated his father in this respect, and would have been ashamed to have given way to childish levity on what he was pleased to consider the war-path, but he had enough of the humorous in his nature to render the struggle to keep grave in Tolly's presence a pretty severe one. Not that Tolly aimed at being either witty or funny, but he had a peculiarly droll expression of face, which added much point to whatever he said.

”Ho!” exclaimed the trapper, after they had gone a little farther; ”here's a trail that even a settlement man could hardly fail to see.

There's bin fifty men or more. D'ye see it Tolly?”

”See it? I should think so. D'you suppose I carry my eyes in my pocket?”

”Come now, lad,” said Drake, turning to Leaping Buck, ”you want to walk in your father's tracks, no doubt. Read me this trail if ye can.”

The boy stepped forward with an air of dignity that Drake regarded as sublime and Tolly thought ludicrous, but the latter was too fond of his red friend to allow his feelings to betray themselves.

”As the white trapper has truly said,” he began, ”fifty men or more have pa.s.sed this way. They are most of them white men, but three or four are Indians.”

”Good!” said Drake, with an approving nod; ”I thought ye'd notice that.

Well, go on.”

”They were making straight for my father's camp,” continued the lad, bending a stern look on the trail, ”but they turned sharp round, like the swallow, on coming to the trail of the white man Brixton, and followed it.”

”How d'ye know that, lad?” asked the trapper.

”Because I see it” returned the boy, promptly, pointing at the same time to a spot on the hill-side considerably above them, where the conformation of the land at a certain spot revealed enough of the trail of the ”fifty men or more,” to show the change of direction.

”Good again, lad. A worthy son of your father. I didn't give 'e credit for sharpness enough to perceive that. Can you read anything more?”

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