He spoke with a slow, deliberate drawl, as if not much accustomed to converse; and I pictured him to myself as one of those silent plainsmen, so habituated to solitude as almost to shun companionship, though he had already let drop a word or two that made me deem him one not devoid of humor. Suddenly I thought of De Croix. "Has any one passed here lately?" I asked, rising to my feet, the old emulation throbbing in my veins. "A white man, I mean, going north." "Wal," he answered slowly, and as he also stood up I could make out, what I had not noted in our previous meeting, that he was as tall as I, but spare of build; "I ain't seen nuthin', but some sort o' critter went ploughin' down inter the gulch up yonder, maybe ten minutes 'fore ye lit down yere on me. Dern if I know whether it were a human er a bar!" "Will you show me the nearest way to the Kinzie house?" "I reckon I'll show ye all right, but ye bet ye don't git me nigher ner a hundred foot o' the door," he returned seriously. "John Kinzie's a mighty good man, stranger, but he an' Ol' Tom Burns ain't never hitched worth a cent." We climbed silently, and came out together upon the top. A slight beam of light crept along through the open door of the log house just in front of us, and for the first time I caught a fair view of my companion. He was a tall, gaunt, wiry fellow, typical in dress and manner of his class, the backwoodsmen of the Southwest, but with a peculiarly solemn face, seamed with wrinkles, and much of it concealed beneath a bushy, iron-gray beard. We eyed each other curiously. "Dern if ever I expected ter meet up with ye agin in no sich way as this," he said shortly. "But thet's the house. Be ye goin' ter stay thar long?" "No," I answered, feeling anxious to have his guidance back to the Fort, "not over five minutes. Will you wait?" "Reckon I may as well," and he seated himself on a stump. No one greeted me at the house, not even a dog; though I could see figures moving within. Either the occupants felt that an assumption of confidence was their best security, or experienced no fear of Indian treachery, for I rapped twice before there was any response. A young girl, with a face of rare beauty and a pair of roguish black eyes, peered out curiously. At sight of a stranger she drew back slightly, yet paused to ask: "Did you wish to see some one here?" "I am seeking for a young girl," I answered, wondering if this could possibly be she, "and they told me at the Fort I should probably find her here. May I ask if you are Elsa Matherson?" For a moment she looked out at me, as if I might be an escaped lunatic. Then she turned her face over her shoulder toward those within. "Mr. Kinzie," said she, "here's another man looking for Elsa Matherson." CHAPTER XV AN ADVENTURE UNDERGROUND A heavily-built man in shirt-sleeves, with a strong, good-humored face, and a shock of gray hair, appeared beside the girl in the doorway.