"And do ye have any aid to help ye in your search?" "We have little but our own knowledge." "And your home is in Louisiana?" "No, we came from there." [Illustration: "The old hunter straightened up as if shot, and gazed at them"] The old man arose with the birds which he had finished plucking and cleaning, and was silent for a time while he placed them in a home-made oven for cooking. Returning to the settle he took up the conversation. "Ye'll find naught here but woods and hills and coal." "Have you been here long?" asked Ande, in turn becoming the inquirer. "Nigh sixteen years." "How does it happen that you, a hunter, should frequent this section, which is rapidly becoming civilised?" "Well, the country is becoming more peopled the last year or so, but there is still tolerable hunting. There's black bear in plenty, and there's deer, beaver, coon, and wild birds, and then I have other reasons. This is nigh the place where my father was slain." "Your father was a hunter, too, then?" "Aye, aye, he hunted some. He hunted some," went on the old hunter, more to himself than his auditors. "And did Indians kill him?" asked Dick, becoming interested. "He was captured by Indians and----" The old man shook his head and then: "Dinner is nigh ready and ye are no doubt as hungry as I am myself." The trapper led the way into the little cabin. Everything within was comfortable as the life of the woods could make them. A rough oak table stood near the opened window, a pile of bear and deerskins in one corner near the fireplace indicated the place where the aged hunter took his rest at night, several rifles hung affectionately on the branches of deer antlers o'er the fireplace, and along the wall ran a slab bench cut from a split log, the rounded side down, into which was inserted the legs. The dinner of roast goose was soon placed on the table and the hungry men sat down and did full justice to the fare. The old hunter fell into a stage of taciturnity from which he could not be aroused. Toward the close of the meal the host again became talkative and pressed his guests, if they stayed long in the neighbourhood, to call as often as they liked. "It's a bit lonely for an old man, and I like company at times," said he, as they were preparing to leave. They promised to come. The horses were soon untethered and mounting they rode back to Burgtown. "Dick," said Ande in the privacy of their own room, "I believe that old fellow could tell us something about father, possibly about grandfather. I believe he knows at least something about the eldorado." "He looked most suspicious when you mentioned that we were prospectors." "His father was a hunter before him, and surely the one or the other must have met him. We'll see as time goes by. We'll call upon him again and try to worm some knowledge out of him. To-morrow we'll get something, I believe, from Hugh Lark, that will bring us close to the mark at least, I'm a-thinking." CHAPTER XXIII