through the mind of the
squatter; and I could perceive that he was making an effort to conceal
his emotions. "'Tis a very odd circumstance," said he, speaking in a
tone of assumed surprise--"very odd indeed! It is your dog, certainly,
though the animal has been disfigured. I _thought_ he was dead. The
men of our spring caravan told me so. They said that the wolves had
killed him."

"Wolves! durn it, I mout a know'd they kudn't a killed him--not all the
wolves on the parairies! Why thur ain't the scratch o' a claw on him!
Whar did he come from anyhow? Who's brought him hyur?"

I could see that Stebbins was desirous of parrying the question. He
gave an evasive answer. "Who knows? He has likely been in the hands of
some Indians--the paint shows that--and preferring the company of
whites, he has followed us, and strayed into the camp."

"Did he come with them ere Injuns that's outside?" quickly inquired
Holt.

"No?--I fancy not with them," answered the Mormon, in whose glance I
could detect the falsehood.

"Let's go an' see!" proposed the squatter, making a step towards the
entrance of the corral.

"No--not to-night, Holt!" hastily interposed the other, and with an
eagerness that showed the interest he felt in procrastinating the
inquiry. "We must not disturb them to-night. In the morning, we can
see them, and learn all about it."

"Durn about disturbin' them! Why not to-night, instead o' the mornin'?"

"Well--if you wish to know to-night, I'll go myself, and speak to the
guide. No doubt, if the dog came with them, he can tell us all about
it? You stay here till I return?"

"Don't be long then. Ho, Wolf! ole fellur! Injuns have had ye, eh?
Durn it, old boy! I'm as gled to see ye, as if--"

An unexpected reflection was called forth by the form of speech--not
that to which he was about to give words--but one whose bitterness, not
only hindered him from saying what he had intended, but caused him
instantly to abandon his caresses of the dog. Staggering back to his
seat, he dropped heavily down upon it--at the same time burying his face
in his hands. The expression upon the Mormon's features, as he parted
from the fire, was one of demoniac significance. Clearly he
comprehended all! I saw him gliding off through, the corral, with
silent stealthy tread, like some restless spirit of darkness. Here and
there he paused; and for a moment held one in conversation--then quickly
passing on to another.