ded to fill a beloved little black pipe, which invariably
constituted his preliminary little breakfast.

Pat Flinders busied himself in blowing up the embers of the fire.

A slight and rapidly eaten meal sufficed to prepare these hardy
backwoodsmen for their journey, and, long before daybreak illumined the
plains, they were far on their way towards the Sawback mountain range.

During the journey of two days, which this trip involved, the botanist
seemed to change his character to some extent. He became silent--almost
morose; did not encourage the various efforts made by his companions to
draw him into conversation, and frequently rode alone in advance of the
party, or occasionally fell behind them.

The day after the stranger had joined them, as they were trotting slowly
over the plains that lay between the Rangers Hill and the Sawbacks, Fred
rode close up to Bevan, and said in a low voice, glancing at the
botanist, who was in advance--

"I am convinced, Paul, that he is a scoundrel."

"That may be so, Mr Fred, but what then?"

"Why, then I conclude that he is deceiving us for some purpose of his
own."

"Nonsense," replied Bevan, who was apt to express himself bluntly, "what
purpose can he serve in deceiving strangers like us! We carry no
gold-dust and have nothing worth robbing us of, even if he were fool
enough to think of attemptin' such a thing. Then, he can scarcely be
deceivin' us in sayin' that he met three Redskins carryin' off a white
man--an' what good could it do him if he is? Besides, he is goin' out
of his way to sarve us."

"It is impossible for me to answer your question, Paul, but I understand
enough of both French and German to know that his broken English is a
mere sham--a mixture, and a bad one too, of what no German or Frenchman
would use--so it's not likely to be the sort of bad English that a Swede
would speak. Moreover, I have caught him once or twice using English
words correctly at one time and wrongly at another. No, you may depend
on it that, whatever his object may be, he is deceiving us."

"It's mesilf as agrees wid ye, sor," said Flinders, who had been
listening attentively to the conversation. "The man's no more a Swede
than an Irishman, but what can we do wid oursilves! True or false, he's
ladin' us in the diriction we want to go, an' it would do no good to say
to him, `Ye spalpeen, yer decavin' of us,' for he'd only say he wasn't;
or may be he'd cut up rough an' lave u