"All right," answered Logan. "You're very welcome. Stand your guns there. You're as welcome under these trees as the birds--eh, Forty-nine?" But Forty-nine was now silent and thoughtful. He was still breathless, and he only puffed and blowed his answer, and sat down on his keg again with all his might. "You must be hungry," said the girl kindly, approaching the men. "Heaps of provisions," puffed Forty-nine, and again he half arose and then sat down on his keg, tighter and harder, if possible, than before. "Thank you, gents, thank you. It's hungry we are--eh, pard?" "We'll have a spread right off," answered the good hearted Logan, now spreading a rock, which served for a table, with the food; when he observed the two men look at the girl and make signs. He looked straight and hard at the man-hunters for a moment, and seeing them exchange glances and nod their ill-looking heads at each other he suddenly dropped his handful of things and started forward. He caught the leader by the shoulder, and whirling him about as he stood there with his companion leering at the girl, he cried out: "Hunting cattle, are you? What's your brand? What's the brand of your cattle, I say? I know every brand in Shasta. Now what is your brand?" Johnny had strode up angrily toward the two men, and followed them up as they retreated. Old Forty-nine, who now was on the alert, and had his sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows from the first, had not been indifferent, but was reaching his tremendous fist towards the retreating nose of Dosson. Yet it was too dark to distinguish friend from foe. "Why, we are not rich men, stranger. We are poor men, and have but few cattle, and so, so we have no brand--eh? pardner--eh?" "No. We got no brand. Poor men, poor men." "We are poor men, with a few cattle that have gone astray. We are hungry, tired poor men, that have lost their way in the night. Poor men that's hungry, and now you want to drive us out into the storm." "Oh, Forty-nine,--John Logan,--they're poor hungry men!" interposed Carrie. "There, there's my hand!" cried impulsive, honest old Forty-nine. "That's enough. You're hungry. Sit down there. And quick, Carrie, pour us the California wine. Here's a gourd, there's a yeast powder can, and there's a tin cup. Thank you. Here's to you. Ah, that sets a fellow all right. It warms the heart; and, I beg your pardon--it's mean to be suspicious. Here, fill us up again. Ah, that's gone just to the spot! Eh, fellows?" "To the right spot! Keep him a drinkin', and the others, too," whispered Dosson to Emens. "That's the game!" And the two villains winked at each other, and slapped Forty-nine on the back, and laughed, and pretended to be the best friend he had in the world. The two men now sat at the table, and Carrie and Johnny bustled about and helped them as they ate and drank. Meantime Logan went for more wood to make a light.