Christine had scarcely tasted her supper, but gave her attention to the hungry men. Alison was eagerly alert, her bright little face framed by its bands of fair hair was turned interestedly from one to another. “I think it is time that you told us where you have been all these hours,” she said, her curiosity refusing to be satisfied. “Out with your story, Mr. Jordan.” “Pretty tame sort of story, isn’t it, boys?” he began. “If we had come back without our scalps it might have been interesting, though we wouldn’t have looked as pretty.” “And if we’d have left our hides with a lot of bullet holes in ’em we’d have missed one good supper,” remarked Ira. “I reckon it’s a good thing we didn’t come to closter quarters with the redskins. I ain’t to say skeered of ’em, though I’m blest if I wouldn’t rather die in a good rational fight with the boys all yellin’ around me than be kilt by some sneakin’ varmint ketchin’ you unawares when you’re out alone. I must say I don’t ache to play cock-robin and git kilt by a bow and arrer neither. I reckin I’m a sort of skeery fellow.” A roar of laughter went up at this. “It don’t seem to keep you much at home,” said Neal. “Well, no, it don’t. I hev to hev my constitutional every day or I git sick. I ain’t sayin’ I’d set at home alone like a toad ketchin’ flies rather’n go out by my lone. I ain’t such a drivelin’ pasty-faced baby as thet. I’m only expressin’ my druthers and a-sayin’ that we were lucky to git back to supper. When I ponder on these here wittles, I tell you, Miss Sparks, I wisht I was twins, so I could eat ’em twicet over.” These remarks met the applause he meant they should, and after the laughter had settled down to an occasional chuckle Neal turned to Alison to give her an account of the day’s adventures.