The man in the saddle looked down with renewed interest upon the burly African, who had set the stock of his rifle on the ground, folded his arms over the muzzle, and assumed a lolling attitude, as if the matter was of no concern to any of them.
“Dat ain’t nuflin,” he said airily; “de sarpint furgot dat I was on de lookout fur him and as soon as he fired and missed, why, I plugged him; ’tain’t wuth speaking ’bout.”
“Fortunate is that company which has two such sentinels as you,” commented the man, with something like a chuckle; “if we run into danger from Indians, shall we be able to borrow you two, or if your friends cannot spare both, can we have one?”
“Who would be your choice?” asked Alden, entering into the spirit of the moment.
“Jethro, as you call him; of course he’s the most valuable.”
“Dunno ’bout dat,” said the African with dignity; “de wimmin folks and de children will blubber so hard when dey find I think oh leabin’ dem dat Shagbark won’t be likely to allow it; howsumeber. I’ll think it ober.”
“Thank you; you are very kind.”
During the conversation, which continued
