AS GUY straightened up in his saddle he took a good look at the man who had so suddenly appeared before him. There was no need that he should ask who he was, for he knew, by his words of greeting, that he could be none other than Zeke, the buffalo hunter. He was the first hunter Guy had ever seen, and of course he gazed at him with no little interest.

He was not very favorably impressed with the man’s appearance, for he was certainly the roughest and most repulsive specimen of humanity that Guy had ever put eyes on. He could form no idea of the expression of his features, for his face was so effectually concealed by thick, bushy whiskers that nothing but a pair of eyes and a low, retreating forehead could be seen. His hair, coarse and matted, hung down upon his shoulders, and his hands were terribly soiled and begrimed. He would have been a tall man if he had stood erect, but he walked almost half-bent, in an attitude similar to that a wild beast might assume when about to spring upon its prey, and moved along in a shambling, loose-jointed manner, as if he had scarcely energy enough to keep himself from falling to pieces. His garments were a strange mixture of the civilized and savage, and Guy thought they ought long ago to have been replaced by better ones. He wore a tattered slouch hat on his head, held a rifle in his hand, and carried a powder-horn and bullet-pouch over his shoulder. Taken altogether, he was very unlike Guy’s beau ideal of a hunter.

“Say, you!” repeated Zeke impatiently; “you got any tobacker? That’s what I want ter know.”

“Plenty of it,” replied Guy. “You’ll find it in the pack-saddle. Mr. Wilson thought you would want a good supply.”

“Then why didn’t he send it afore?” growled the hunter.

“He sent it as soon as he could. He came from Frisco only yesterday.”

Zeke leaned his rifle against the nearest tree, plunged his hands into the pack-saddle, and while he was searching for the tobacco, repeatedly ran his eyes over the face and figure of the boy, who seemed to be a great curiosity to him.

He said nothing, however, until he had found a plug of the coveted weed, and thrust a good portion of it into his cheek. After he had chewed on it a while the effects became perceptible. The discontented, almost savage, look his face had worn, gave place to an expression a trifle more amiable, and when he spoke his voice sounded more like a human being’s, and less like the growl of an angry bear.

“Who be you?” he demanded. “I never seed you in these parts afore.”

“No,” said Guy, “you never did. My name is Harris, and I used to be a sailor; but I’m a hunter now.”

“You!” exclaimed Zeke, with undisguised contempt in his tones and looks. “What do you hunt—squirrels?”

“Well, I have never hunted anything yet,” said Guy, who thought it best to tell the truth; “but I want to be a buffalo hunter like you; so I hope that we shall be fast friends, and that you will teach me all you know. Will you?”

“Humph!” grunted Zeke. “Let’s go to camp.”

“How far is it from here?” asked Guy.

“A matter of five mile, mebbe. I got tired of waitin’, an’ come up to see if thar was anybody goin’ to fetch me any tobacker.”

“Five miles?” echoed Guy. “I am almost tired out with riding, and should be glad to walk if the horses did not go so fast.”

“Let ’em go,” said Zeke. “I’ll walk with you. The mar’ knows the way, an’ the other’ll foller.”

Guy was glad to act upon this suggestion. While he was dismounting, the hunter picked up his rifle and examined it with a critical eye. Guy was astonished at the ease with which he drew it up to his face, and the steadiness with which he held it while glancing along the barrel.

“This your’n?” asked Zeke.

“Yes; I bought it in Frisco—paid fifteen dollars for it, and haven’t had time to shoot it yet. Suppose you try it, and see if it is a good one. Here are the bullets, powder and caps in my game-bag. It carries a ball large enough to kill a buffalo—doesn’t it?”

“Sartin.”

“Well, I hope you will give me a chance to try it on one some day, will you?”

“Humph!” was the answer Zeke deigned to give.

In accordance with Guy’s request the hunter proceeded to load the rifle, and as the boy knew that it was one of the first things he must learn, he kept a close watch of his movements.

Zeke first took from the game-bag a bullet, which he placed in the palm of his hand, and then from the horn poured powder enough on it to cover it. This done he put the bullet into his mouth, and after pouring the powder down the barrel and hitting the weapon a knock or two on the ground to drive it into the tube, begun searching in Guy’s game-bag for something.

Failing to find the article, whatever it was, he took from the string which hung suspended from his button-hole, a small piece of thick cloth, which Guy saw was greased on one side. This the hunter placed over the muzzle of the rifle—the greased side down—put the bullet upon it, and drove it home with the ramrod. It was all done then except putting on the cap, and that occupied scarcely more than a second’s time.

Taken altogether it was a complicated operation, Guy thought, and he did not know whether he could remember all the details or not. He found that he had forgotten one thing, and that was the cloth which the hunter wrapped around the bullet. No doubt that was the “patching” he had often read about.

When the rifle was loaded the hunter raised it to his shoulder and started down the trail, Guy following with his game-bag in one hand and Zeke’s rifle in the other. He was anything but pleased at the manner in which his advances had been received, but still he was not disheartened by it.

No doubt the hunter was wearied with his day’s work—Guy knew that he had been in the saddle ever since sunrise watching the cattle under his charge—and perhaps after the tobacco had had time to have its full effect, and Zeke had taken a good supper and smoked a pipe, he would be better-natured. Then Guy could make another effort to work his way into his good graces.

While on the way to the valley in which Zeke’s camp was located, Guy had frequent opportunities to witness his companion’s skill with the rifle. Squirrels were abundant, and the hunter, without leaving the trail, succeeded in bringing down a dozen or more, and every one of them shot through the head. This was Guy’s first lesson in hunting, and he watched every move Zeke made. He now saw how the man came by that stealthy, crouching style of progression which he had noticed. He had practiced it so often while in pursuit of game that it had become a part of his nature.

At the foot of the mountains the woods terminated, and of course there were no squirrels to be found on the open plain. By the time they reached this point the tobacco, aided perhaps by the fine shooting he had enjoyed, was beginning to tell upon the hunter, who showed a disposition to throw off his reserve altogether. He found his way to Guy’s heart by assuring him that his rifle was as “fine a we’pon as he had ever drawed to his face,” and followed it up by inquiring very particularly into the boy’s history. And Guy was quite willing to tell him everything he wanted to know. He told him how long he had been away from home, why he had left it, what he had done since he had been adrift in the world, and what he wanted to do next. Being anxious to make a friend of the hunter he concealed nothing, not even the fact that he had twenty-five dollars in money, which he was willing to turn over to Zeke to be expended in any way the latter saw fit, so long as it benefited them both.

The hunter became more and more interested as Guy proceeded, and the mention of the money and the sight of the purse the boy carried about his neck broke down the last barrier between them. Suddenly stopping and facing Guy, he extended to him one of his huge, dirty paws.

“Put it thar, pard,” said he. “I’ll take you.”

“Will you, really?” exclaimed Guy, almost beside himself with excitement and delight.

“Sartin I will. I’ve been a-lookin’ an’ a-waitin’ fur two years in hopes some feller would come along who would do fur a chum, an’ here he is, come at last. You’re just the chap fur me. I’ll make you the best buffaler hunter that Kansas ever seed. I’ll larn you to ride an’ shoot, an’ make a man of you.”

“And will you teach me how to fight Indians and catch wild horses?” asked Guy.

“In course I will.”

“How far is Kansas from here?”

“Wal, it’s a right smart piece.”

“Shall we go there on horseback?”

“Sartin.”

“And camp out on the way?”

“In course.”

“When shall we start?”

“We’ll be on our way to-morrow night.”

“To-morrow night!” repeated Guy. “Why, Mr. Wilson told me that he never hired a man without making him promise to give at least a month’s notice when he wanted to quit.”

“What do I care for Wilson?” asked Zeke contemptuously. “A free hunter does what he likes. I can trust you, I reckon.”

“Certainly you can.”

“Cause if I can’t, I don’t want anything to do with you,” said Zeke.

“Oh, you can trust me, I assure you,” declared Guy earnestly, fearing that the hunter was about to go back from his promise. “What do you want me to do?”

“I’ll tell you arter supper. I’ve got an idee in my head an’ want to put on my thinkin’ cap an’ think it out; so don’t say nothin’ to me till I speak. Let’s go an’ eat some of them squirrels. In a few days from now we’ll be livin’ on buffaler hump an’ marrer bones, an that’s livin’, I tell you! I say agin, you’re jest the feller I’ve been a-lookin’ fur.”

The hunter relapsed into silence, and so did Guy, who marched along by his side, and although he carried a ponderous rifle on his shoulder and a heavy string of squirrels in his hand, he walked as if he were treading on air. He forgot that he had that day ridden forty miles on a rough-going horse. He did not bestow a thought upon his weary body, for his mind was too fully occupied with the future. In a few hours more, he kept saying to himself, his bright dreams would all be realized. He had got on the right side of the hunter at last—there could be no doubt of that. Zeke was as cordial as one could possibly be—more so, in fact, than any man he had ever before met. Perhaps if Guy had been more experienced in the ways of the world, this would have aroused his suspicions and made him a little more guarded in his intercourse with his new friend. That caution was necessary, we can see by following Zeke for a moment in his meditations.

“If I hain’t found a way outer this diffikilty now, I’m a buffaler myself,” thought the hunter. “This onsuspectin’ leetle cub wouldn’t a-been more welcome to my camp if he’d been a hangel loaded down with pipes an’ tobacker enough to do me all my life. I’m monstrous tired of herdin’ cattle, ’cause it’s too hard work. I’ve done it fur a hull month, an’ all I’ve got to show fur it is my hoss. The rifle I used, the powder, lead, an’ blankets, all b’long to Wilson, an’ has got to be paid fur. It’ll take me two months longer to ’arn everything I need, an’ I had oughter be on my way to the prairy now. I had kinder thought that mebbe I’d steal the hull kit an’ put out with it, but I’m a’most afeard to do it. Wilson, he’s lightnin’ on wheels when his dander’s riz, an’ he’d have all the settlers in the valley arter me so quick that it would make a feller’s head swim; an’ if they ketched me——”

Here Zeke threw his head over on his right shoulder and made a motion with his hand as if he were winding a rope about his neck and hauling himself up with it—a proceeding which made Guy look at him in great surprise.

“I didn’t say nothin’,” said the hunter.

“I know it,” said Guy, “and I didn’t say anything either.”

Zeke shifted Guy’s rifle to his other shoulder and went on with his soliloquy.

“Now this cub has got a good fittin’ out, a fine rifle, huntin’-knife, blankets, an’ powder’n lead enough to last me as fur as Laramie anyways. When I get thar the twenty-five dollars he’s got will buy me more powder’n lead, an’ the traders will advance the other things I want. I can steal everything he’s got an’ put out as easy as failin’ off a log. He can’t foller me up an’ ketch me, an’ he ain’t got no friends to do it fur him. I would be off this very night, only I must first make things squar’ with Wilson, to keep him off’n my trail. Now how am I goin’ to do it? That’s what I put my thinkin’ cap on fur, an’ that’s what I want to think out.”

While Zeke was turning this problem over in his mind he and his young companion arrived at his camp, which was located under an oak tree near the middle of a beautiful valley. Guy would not have known when he reached it had he not seen his own horse and the mare grazing near a third which was picketed a short distance from the tree, for there was but little to indicate the existence of a camp—nothing, in fact, but a pair of blankets, a small piece of beef hanging from one of the branches of the oak, and a few embers and ashes which marked the spot where a fire had once been kindled.

The hunter at once took possession of the blankets, where he lay gazing intently into the branches above his head, and Guy set about putting the camp in order. It was novel business to him, but he liked to do it, and Zeke, being too lazy to lift a finger unless it was absolutely necessary, was perfectly willing that he should.

Guy first led the mare to the tree, and begun the work of unloading the pack-saddle. The supplies, consisting for the most part of coffee, tea, sugar, flour, and tobacco, were piled about the roots of the tree and covered with branches, as a slight protection from the weather and any prowling beast that might happen along during the hunter’s absence.

Then he relieved the mare of the pack-saddle, removed the saddle and bridle from his own horse, and after staking out both the animals and arranging his bed, proceeded to kindle a fire and make ready his supper.

After a thorough search of the camp he found something which had evidently done duty as a coffee-pot, and when he had filled it with water and set it on the coals, he stopped, not knowing what else to do. Tortillas he could not make, and he had not yet learned the art of skinning squirrels and cooking them before the fire on spits. However, he could get on without the squirrels. He had a supply of eatables in his game-bag, and the cold bread and meat, with the addition of a cup of hot coffee, would make him a good supper. If the hunter wanted anything he could get up and cook it himself.

Guy, having arranged his table to his satisfaction, poured some of the coffee into a cup which the ranchman had been thoughtful enough to put into his game-bag with luncheon, and settled back on his elbow, believing that he could do full justice to the meal, not having tasted a mouthful since leaving the rancho shortly after daylight.

All these movements had been closely watched by Zeke, who was by no means so fully occupied with his meditations as he pretended to be. Seeing that Guy was eating the bread and meat with evident relish, he crawled slowly off his bed and joined him at his meal.

The supper disappeared rapidly after that, Zeke using both hands to crowd the food into his mouth, and emptying Guy’s cup at a draught whenever he was thirsty. In a very short space of time the last of the bread and meat was out of sight and the coffee-pot emptied.

Zeke gave a grunt of satisfaction, but had nothing to say until he had filled his pipe and lighted it with a brand from the fire. Then, between his long, deliberate puffs, he managed to utter the words:

“I’ve got it.”

“Got what?” asked the boy.

“I know what we’ll do. I’ve thought my plans out.”

“All right, pard,” said Guy, who believed that if he was going to be a hunter he might as well begin to use the language of one. “What are they? Spit ’em out.”

“I can do that,” said Zeke, “an’ it won’t take me long, nuther. In the fust place, I s’pose Wilson told you to go back to-morrow, didn’t he? I thought so. Wal, you go back ’cordin’ to orders, but instead of ta-kin’ your own gun an’ huntin’ rig with you, take mine an’ leave your’n. Understand? You see, the rifle an’ things b’longin’ to it that I’ve got here ain’t mine; they’re Wilson’s. I took ’em outen the store agreein’ to work fur ’em an’ the other things I need to take me back to the other side of the mountains whar I b’long an’ whar I’ll stay if I onct git thar agin, I bet you. But if I stop to ’arn everything I want it will take me two months more, an’ by that time we must be among the buffaler, if we’re goin’ to get any hides this season. You’ve got things enough and money enough to last us till we get to Laramie, an’ thar I can get what else we want from the traders. One rifle an’ one blanket will last us till then.”

“Will one horse be enough?” asked Guy.

“No; we must have a hoss apiece, an’ I’ve got ’em—that one that I ’arned from Wilson, an’ I’ve bought another from a feller livin’ up the valley.”

It occurred to Guy right here to ask how Zeke could have bought another horse, seeing that he had no money and had been working for Mr. Wilson ever since he had been in that part of the country, but before he could speak the hunter went on;

“Now you go back to-morrow mornin’, like I was tellin’ you, an’ take the rifle an’ all the other things that b’longs to Wilson, an’ give ’em to him an’ tell him thar’s his things—I don’t want ’em—an’ he must send a man down here to onct to take care of these yere cattle, ’cause I hain’t goin’ to stay no longer. You needn’t say nothin’ else to him, howsomever. Don’t tell him of the bargain me an’ you has made, but when it comes dark you slip away from the house an’ meet me at the water-tank. You know whar that spoutin’ well is, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Guy, “I saw it last night.”

“Wal, you come thar as soon as it comes dark, an’ I’ll be on hand with two hosses—this one an’ another, an’ all we’ll have to do will be to put off. Understand?”

“Yes,” replied Guy, “I understand it all.”

“Arter you leave here in the mornin’ I’ll go an’ get my other hoss that I was a tellin’ you of,” continued Zeke. “You see the reason why I am leavin’ Wilson in this way, an’ without sayin’ nuthin’ to him, is ’cause I agreed to give him notice when I wanted to quit, but I can’t afford to waste a month’s time layin’ around here doin’ nothin’, when the buffaler is comin’ in by thousands an’ waitin’ to be shot. Understand, don’t you?”

Yes, Guy was sure he understood the hunter’s plans and intentions perfectly, and Zeke was equally certain he did not, and so he repeated them again and again, until the boy knew them by heart. After that he launched off into glowing descriptions of buffalo hunts and told of fights with Indians and bears, and adventures with wild horses, until Guy was almost beside himself with excitement and impatience. Then Zeke said he was tired, and crawled back to his blankets, but Guy tended the fire and sat by it for two hours longer, thinking of the future; and when he went to sleep it was to dream over the thrilling scenes the hunter had just described to him.