“Oh, come, Murphy; speak up, man; I know you’re in here.”

That terror of the unknown instantly vanished.  This was the familiar language of the world, and, however the fellow came to be there, it was assuredly a man who spoke.  With a gurgling oath at his own folly, Murphy’s anger flared violently forth into disjointed speech, the deadly gun yet clasped ready for instant action.

“Who—­the hell—­are ye?” he blurted out.

The visitor laughed, the bushes rustling as he pushed toward the sound of the voice.  “It’s all right, old boy.  Gave ye quite a scare, I reckon.”

Murphy could now dimly perceive the other advancing through the intervening willows, and his Colt shot up to the level.  “Stop!—­ye take another—­step an’ I ’ll—­let drive.  Ye tell me—­first—­who ye be.”

The invader paused, but he realized the nervous finger pressing the trigger and made haste to answer.  “It’s all right, I tell ye.  I ’m one o’ Terry’s scouts.”

“Ye are?  Jist the same—­I’ve heard—­yer voice—­afore.”

“Likely ’nough.  I saw service in the Seventh.”

Murphy was still a trifle suspicious.  “How’d ye git yere?  How ’d ye come ter know—­whar I wus?”

The man laughed again.  “Sorter hurts yer perfessional feelins, don’t it, old feller, to be dropped in on in this unceremonious way?  But it was dead easy, old man.  Ye see I happened thro’ Cheyenne only a couple o’ hours behind ye, with a bunch o’ papers fer the Yellowstone.  The trail’s plain enough out this far, and I loped ’long at a pretty fair hickory, so thet I was up on the bluff yonder, and saw ye go into camp yere just afore dark.  You wus a-keepin’ yer eyes skinned across the Fourche, and naturally didn’t expect no callers from them hills behind.  The rest wus nuthin’, an’ here I am.  It’s a darn sight pleasanter ter hev company travellin’, ter my notion.  Now kin I cum on?”

Murphy reluctantly lowered his Colt, every movement betraying annoyance.  “I reckon.  But I ’d—­a damn sight—­rather risk it—­alone.”

The stranger came forward without further hesitation.  The night was far too dark to reveal features, but to Murphy’s strained vision the newcomer appeared somewhat slender in build, and of good height.

“Whar’d—­ye say ye—­wus bound?”

“Mouth o’ the Powder.  We kin ride tergether fer a night or two.”

“Ye kin—­do as ye—­please, but—­I ain’t a huntin’—­no company,—­an’ I’m a’—­goin’ ’cross now.”

He advanced a few strides toward his horses.  Then suddenly he gave vent to a smothered cry, so startling as to cause the stranger to spring hastily after him.

“Oh!  My God!  Oh!  Look there!”

“What is it, man?”

“There! there!  The picture!  Don’t you see?”

“Naw; I don’t see nuthin’.  Ye ain’t gone cracked, hev ye?  Whose picture?”

“It’s there!—­O Lord!—­it’s there!  My God! can’t ye see?—­An’ it’s his face—­all a-gleamin’ with green flames—­Holy Mary—­an’ I ain’t seen it—­afore in—­fifteen year!”