melted in the warm rays of the sun. The radius of the curious flurry was so slight that it was speedily left behind them.
Jethro led his pony alongside of Alden’s mare. The guide, as was his custom when riding with the emigrant train, kept a brief way in advance, looking straight ahead and paying no attention to the two behind him.
“Say, Al, what’s de matter wid Mr. Shagbark?” asked Jethro, lowering his voice.
“Nothing; why do you ask?”
“What’s he gwine back to de ridge fur? Does he wanter shoot some more antelopes?”
It seemed to Alden that the hunter had turned from the direct course, but the youth knew he had good reason for doing so.
“If you will look to the right you will see that he isn’t riding toward the ridge.”
“Don’t make no difference; we’ll neber git home if we trabel the way he’s gwine now.”
“If you think best, you might point out his mistake to him.”
“Gorrynation! he’s too touchy for me to put in my oar; you am de one to set him right.”
“I must first know that he is wrong; wait until then.”
