He stared at the addition, who proved to be a man about thirty, tall and well built, with dark hair and dark eyes. He, too, carried a fine repeating rifle, but his dress was incongruous and striking. He wore a felt hat, broad of brim, with a heavy gilt cord around the crown. A jacket of dark red velvet with broad brass buttons enclosed his strong shoulders and body, but his costume was finished off with trousers, leggings and moccasins of tanned deerskin. Will saw the butt of a pistol and the hilt of a knife peeping from under the velvet jacket. A strange costume, he thought, and, when he looked at the man more closely, his face also looked strange. It was that of a civilized human being, of a man who had come from the old, settled eastern regions, and yet it was not. The eyes, set rather close together, now and then showed green in the early dawn. Will judged that he was one who had become habituated to the wilderness, and, as he sat in a graceful attitude on a great stone, he certainly showed no signs that his surroundings oppressed him. "Mr. Martin Felton, Will," said the hunter. "Mr. Felton, this is Mr. William Clarke, who is traveling with us." Will stood up, the last trace of sleep gone from his eyes, and gazed at Felton. Perhaps this was a new comrade, turning their band to four, and strengthening it greatly. But when he glanced at the hunter and the Little Giant he did not see any great warmth of welcome in their eyes. "Traveling, young sir!" said Felton in a lightly ironic tone. "You seem to prefer paths of peril. I would not say that this is exactly a safe region for tourists." Now Will was quite sure he would be no addition to their party. He liked neither his tone nor his manner. "It's true there is plenty of danger," he replied. "But, as I take it, there is no more for me than there is for you." "The lad has put it very well, Mr. Felton," said the hunter. "However much we may be seeing the sights in these regions, our risks are no greater than yours are." Felton, seeming not to notice him, continued, looking directly at Will: "You're right to ask the question, but I can say in answer that your dangers are greater than mine. I have no trouble with the Sioux. I don't think any Indian warrior within a thousand miles of us wants my scalp." "It was our information that they had declared war upon all white people who entered this country. How does it happen that you're immune?" Felton smiled, and, in the lad's opinion, it was not a pleasant smile.