"They seem to me to be running away from enemies," I observed, "however, we shall soon know." "At all events we must try to select our camping-ground before they come up, or they may occupy it," answered Mr Tidey, "there is a stream to the right bordered by trees. It is just the spot we want. Ride back, Mike, and hurry on the waggons. We shall have formed our camp before the strangers arrive." While Mr Tidey rode in the direction towards which he pointed, I galloped back and gave notice of the approach of a train from the westward. I had observed an easy pass among the hills which led down to the stream, and through it I was able to guide our waggons. We reached the ground selected by Mr Tidey in good time to camp before dark, and our arrangements had just been concluded when the strangers approached. As they drew near, my father and I went to meet them, to show them a spot near ours where they might encamp. Two men, seeing us coming, advanced towards us: one of them was a sturdy, strong, bold fellow, but the other had nothing of the backwoodsman about him in appearance. "Glad to fall in with you, strangers," said the first; "and if you follow my advice, you will turn back with us, unless you wish to have your scalps taken by the Indians or your cattle drowned by the floods, or if you escape them, to die of hunger and thirst as you travel over the desert to the westward, though it's my opinion you'll never get many days journey from this." "Your report, friend, is not very encouraging," answered my father, "though, as I am prepared to encounter some difficulty, I cannot promise to follow your advice; however, as we shall spend the evening together we shall hear more of what you have gone through. To save you time, we looked out for a spot for your camp. You cannot do better than occupy it." The stranger thanked us. "Whereabouts is it?" he asked. "It is a little to the westward of where our waggons are drawn up." "I'd rather go further east," said the stranger when he saw it, "and place you between ourselves and the redskins. We've had one battle already, and to say the truth have no stomachs for another. You may take your turn next, should they come, and I am not certain that they will not before daybreak." "You are welcome to camp where you like," answered my father, amused at the stranger's cowardice, of which he did not seem at all ashamed; "we shall look to you, however, to help us in driving back the redskins if they make their appearance." We, however, assisted the strangers in finding a suitable spot a little to the eastward of our camp, and in a short time they drew up their waggons on it. As soon as we had finished supper my father and Uncle Denis and I went over to the strangers' camp, to hear a further account of their proceedings.