“Quite a number have passed through, but I don’t think there are any besides your company.” “The Blackfeet are here sometimes?” “Yes; their hunting and war parties occasionally pass through, but they know of the Meagans, respect their character, and never offer to molest them.” “I see; but how ’bout us?” asked Black Tom, with a grin. “It ain’t likely they would be so careful about treading on your corns. Heigho!” This exclamation on the part of Hammond was caused by the growing light around them showing that day was breaking. The trapper was startled somewhat, but he was deeply interested in his new acquaintance, and continued chatting some time longer. As he was ready to move away, Tom said: “See hyar, Hammond, our mansion is down near t’other end the kenyon, and--” “I know very well where it is,” interrupted the young man, bowing slightly and smiling. “Wal, what I war goin’ to hit at war this: come thar and make your head-quarters with us. We’re huntin’ gold and you are huntin’ the gal; but we’ve got to do a little sleepin’ now and then, and why can’t you bunk with us?” “I thank you, Tom; I may accept your invitation, but not just at present. However, we will keep up the acquaintance so pleasantly commenced, and I will call on you now and then.” This was their parting, and making their way out of the bushes, Black Tom continued on down the cañon, reaching his friends, when both were quite anxious regarding him. After telling his story, there was a consultation. All were quite hungry, and it was agreed that old Stebbins should start off on a quest for food, and Teddy should keep guard during his absence, which time Black Tom proposed to devote to sleep. This arrangement was carried out to the letter. Tom secured two good hours’ rest, which were all that he needed, Teddy acted faithfully his part as sentinel, and old Stebbins came back with the hind-quarters of a young antelope slung over his shoulder. Some was broiled over the fire, and the three hunters devoured it with an appetite that was absolutely wolfish, scarcely speaking until it was finished, when Tom asked, somewhat bluntly: “Did you see nothin’ of the speckled and ring-tailed critter?” “Nothin’, but I see’d sign.” “Blazes! whar?” “Off yonder.” As he replied he pointed off to the left, which was in a totally different direction from the one leading toward the Meagan village, proof that they were hostile Indians. “Thar’s ’bout a dozen,” added old Stebbins. “They’re Blackfeet in thar war-paint, and they’re goin’ fur somebody.” “Bad ’cess to ’em!” exclaimed Teddy, who had managed to light his pipe. “Give us the chance and we’ll show ’em a thing or two.”