Besides, He Had Over Fifty Good Men
With Him, And Probably There Were Only Ten Or Twelve Horse Thieves.
So
not much attention was paid to what the old Frenchman had said.
But after dinner, when we were sitting outside and Faye and the doctor
were smoking, a man came around the corner of the tent with long,
swinging strides, and was in our midst before we had dreamed of anyone
being near. He spoke to Faye courteously, and declining a chair,
dropped down full length on the ground, with elbows in the grass and
chin on the palms of his hands. His feet were near the tent and his
face out, which placed him in a fine position to observe everything in
the camp without anyone seeing that he was doing so, especially as his
eyes were screened by a soft, broad-brimmed hat. It was impossible to
see their color, of course.
He was young - not over twenty-eight or thirty - and handsome, with a
face that was almost girlish in its fairness. His hair was neatly cut,
and so was his light mustache, and his smooth face showed that he had
recently shaved. He was tall and lithe, and from his chin to his toes
was dressed in fine buckskin - shirt, trousers, leggings, and
moccasins - and around his neck was tied a blue cotton handkerchief,
new and clean. That the man could be a horse thief, an outlaw, seemed
most incredible.
He talked very well, too, of the country and the game, and we were
enjoying the change in our usual after-dinner camp conversation, when
suddenly up he jumped, and turning around looked straight at Faye, and
then like a bomb came the request to be allowed to go with him to Fort
Maginnis!
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