Hardly had he ceased speaking when again the circle of light was
invaded by stalking forms.

"I thought so! Here comes the skulkin' varmints," whispered the
teamster.

But he was wrong. A deep, calm voice spoke the single word: "Friends."

Two men in the brown garb of woodsmen approached. One approached the
travelers; the other remained in the background, leaning upon a long,
black rifle.

Thus exposed to the glare of the flames, the foremost woodsman
presented a singularly picturesque figure. His costume was the fringed
buckskins of the border. Fully six feet tall, this lithe-limbed young
giant had something of the wild, free grace of the Indian in
his posture.

He surveyed the wondering travelers with dark, grave eyes.

"Did the reddys do any mischief?" he asked.

"No, they didn't harm us," replied Sheppard. "They ate our supper,
and slipped off into the woods without so much as touching one of us.
But, indeed, sir, we are mighty glad to see you."

Will echoed this sentiment, and Helen's big eyes were fastened upon
the stranger in welcome and wonder.