“Not by a great sight. He stole my last blanket, took almost all the food we had, and left me to shift for myself. When you came, he was beating me because I could not get him something to eat. How could I make him a cup of coffee when there wasn’t any coffee?” Oscar jerked the remnant of the switch off the fire and went out to look for Lish. But that worthy was out of sight. CHAPTER XXXVII. BIG THOMPSON’S HUNTING DOG. “Well, I declare, Oscar! How nicely you are situated, and how well you live!” Tom Preston gave a sigh of satisfaction as he settled back on his elbow and put down his cup, after taking a refreshing drink of the strong, hot coffee. He lay upon a comfortable bed, beside a roaring fire; and his foot, which bore an ugly looking wound, had just been dressed with some soothing liniment. Beside him, on the floor, was the best dinner he had eaten for many a day, consisting of juicy venison steaks, corn-bread, canned fruit, and pickles. He and Oscar had been at home about twenty-four hours, and the cabin was wearing its old-time look again. The specimens and skins were all there, so were the saddles and bridles, and Oscar’s breech loader rested in its accustomed place over the door. Everything the wolfer had stolen had been recovered except the small portion of bacon he had eaten in his camp in the upper end of the valley; and there was, also, one thing there he did not steal—at least from Oscar—that was his rifle. At first the young hunter did not know whether to take the weapon home with him or not, for he had no desire that the wolfer should starve for want of means to procure food. But Tom insisted on it, and Oscar at last yielded to his wishes. “He’s as treacherous as the wolf he hunts,” declared Tom, “and if you leave him that rifle, he will surely waylay you and use it against you. Take it by all means. It will help pay for the skins and blanket he has stolen from me. You needn’t be afraid that he will starve. Nearly all the fresh meat we have had this winter I caught in my snares, and he can get some in the same way. We will leave him his pony, so that he can get his spelter to the settlement in the spring, and that is all we will do for him.” The return journey had been accomplished without any mishap. The mule led the way, carrying the pack. Tom came next, riding Big Thompson’s pony, and Oscar brought up the rear on foot. They spent the first night in the wolfer’s abandoned camp, arriving at the cabin about noon on the following day. They could not travel faster on account of Tom’s injuries. The wound in his foot was very painful, and he was black and blue all over from the beating the wolfer had given him; but his tongue was all right, and he kept it going incessantly.