Sneak approached the place where Boone and Glenn were standing, with the gravest face that man ever wore. His eyes seemed to be set in his head, for not once did they wink, nor did his lips move for some length of time after he threw down the dogs at the feet of Glenn, although several men addressed him. He stood with his arms folded, and gazed mournfully at his dead dogs. “The little fellows fought bravely, and covered themselves with glory,” said Glenn, much amused at the solemn demeanour of Sneak. “If there ain’t more blood spilt on the strength of it, I wish I may be smashed!” said Sneak, compressing his lips. “What mean you? what’s the matter?” inquired Boone, who best understood what the man was meditating. “I’ve got as good a gun as anybody here! And I’ll have revenge, or pay!” replied Sneak, turning his eyes on Glenn. “If your remarks are intended for me,” said Glenn, “rely upon it you shall have justice.” “Tell us all about it,” said Boone. “When I heard that fool up the valley shoot off his forty-four pounder, I ran to see what he had done, and when I came near to where he was, his gun was lying up the hill behind him, and he setting down whining like a baby, and a great gore of blood hanging to his nose. I wish it had blowed his head off! I got tired of staying with the tarnation fool, who couldn’t tell me a thing, when I heard you shooting, and the horn blowing for the men; and knowing the bar was dead, I started off full tilt. I hadn’t gone fifty steps before I began to see where his bullets had spattered the trees and bushes in every direction. Presently I stumbled over these dogs, my own puppies—and there they lay as dead as door nails. I whistled, and they didn’t move; I then stooped down to see how the bear had killed ’em, and I found these bullet holes in ’em!” said Sneak, turning their limber bodies over with his foot, until their wounds were uppermost. “I’ll be shot if I don’t have pay, or revenge!” he continued, with tears in his eyes. “What were they worth?” demanded Glenn, laughing. “I was offered two dollars a-piece for ’em as we came through Indiana,” replied Sneak. “Here’s the money,” said Glenn, handing him the amount. After receiving the cash, Sneak turned away perfectly satisfied, and seemed not to bestow another thought upon his puppies. This affair had hardly been settled before Joe made his appearance on Pete. He rode slowly along down the path, as dolefully as ever man approached the graveyard. As he drew near, all eyes were fixed upon him. Never were any one’s features so much disfigured. His nose was as large as a hen’s egg, and as purple as a plum. Still it was not much disproportioned to the rest of his swollen face; and the whole resembled the unearthly phiz of the most bloated gnome that watched over the slumbers of Rip Van Winkle. CHAPTER III.