"My young friend," said Dickson, laughing, "chance plays too great a part in all this. You will excuse me if I don't believe a word of your story." "You are not generous, sir." "I am not generous?" "You will not believe that a young man could give way to his adventurous instincts; and yet you, a wise man, very much older than I am, you, whose position was settled, I find you here, without being able to give the slightest explanation of your conduct." "Well answered, George. You hit me hard, but you know I am an old fool. I am so, as sure as fate. Yes, my friend, I am mad enough for a straitjacket. But at the same time, I can see that you will not make me your confidant." "I assure you--" began Clinton. "What is the use of holding out any longer? You must rely on me in the end; but when you do come to me with the truth, it will be my turn." "You are not angry with me?" "No, my boy: keep your secrets; but remember I am your friend. Keep your own counsel then, if you will--it concerns only yourself. But remember, whenever you want me, I am ready," he answered. "I know not how to thank you." "What nonsense! You owe me nothing. It is I who am your debtor. But it is getting late, and I must return to the camp, where they must be getting anxious. Thanks to my rest I feel not only able to walk, but to carry the confounded deer." "Wait, however, while I clean and skin him. It will then be easier." "You are quite right. Be quick, as we are short of food." "But the country is enormously rich in game, and what a beautiful spot!" "It certainly is," replied Samuel, after which his young friend soon prepared the game so as to be easily carried. "And now take my arm while I lead you through the defile, which is the only way out of the valley." And so they started, Samuel walking much better than he expected, though suffering much. "One favour," said the young man, after a time. "What is it, my friend?" asked Samuel. "Say not one word of our meeting." "Since you wish it, I will be strictly silent on the subject. Like other people I know, I will invent some sort of story--it is not difficult." The young man smiled, and shook him heartily by the hand. Then Samuel Dickson walked away in the direction of the camp, while George busied himself in the valley. CHAPTER VII. JOSHUA DICKSON BECOMES MASTER OF THE VALLEY. After Samuel had walked some distance he found that he had miscalculated his strength. He was very weak about the ankle, and the way being rude and his load heavy, he could scarcely get along at all. Still he would not abandon the deer, knowing as he did how short of provisions they were in the camp. Wiping the cold perspiration off his brow, the brave American resumed his journey.