The Young Bank Messenger Part 22

Ernest looked in the direction pointed out by the boy. At the distance of a hundred rods he saw a rude log house, which seemed to contain but one room. Smoke was curling from a chimney projecting from the roof.

Outside sat an Indian, about forty years of age, smoking a pipe.

He seemed busily thinking, having the grave face characteristic of the average Indian. He did not immediately notice the approach of his little son. But when they were near, the Indian boy uttered a cry, p.r.o.nouncing some Indian word which possibly meant "father."

Then the red man looked up, and his grave face changed as he recognized his boy in the company of a young white stranger.

He rose hastily from his seat, and advanced quickly to meet the two who were approaching.

"What has happened?" he asked in clear and distinct English.

"Your little boy fell into the water," explained Ernest.

"And you saved him?"

"Yes," answered Ernest, modestly. "I saw him fall, and jumped in after him."

"Was the water deep?"

"About so deep," said Ernest, placing his hand about five feet from the ground.

"Then he would have been drowned if you had not been near?"

"Yes, if he could not swim."

"He is too young to swim. But you are wet," added the Indian, noticing for the first time the condition of Ernest's clothes.

"Yes, a little."

"Come in," said the Indian abruptly.

He led the way into the log cabin.

There was a stove in the centre of the room, and the air was so heated as to be uncomfortable. As he led the child in, a stout Indian woman came forward with a cry and took him in her arms. Her husband rapidly explained what had happened. She instantly stripped the clothes from the child, and put on a dry change.

"Now," said the Indian, turning to Ernest, "take off your wet clothes."

Though Ernest knew that it was wise to do so, he felt bashful about removing them in presence of the woman. But his Indian host brought from a nail, on which they hung, a pair of buckskin breeches of his own, and offered them to Ernest for his temporary use.

Ernest no longer hesitated, but made the subst.i.tution.

As the Indian was four or five inches taller than himself, the legs covered his feet. He laughed as he saw how they looked, and the Indian's serious face relaxed a little from the same cause.

"Now I will dry your clothes," he said.

He took a chair and, hanging the wet garments over the back, placed it very near the stove. Ernest hardly liked to lose so much time, but he knew that it would not be safe to wear the trousers in their soaked condition.

"You speak English very well," he said, turning to the Indian.

"Yes, I have spent much time with white people," was the answer.

"Do you support yourself by hunting?" went on Ernest.

"Yes, I am a hunter, but I go with rich white people from the cities, and with Englishmen, who want a guide."

"And do they pay you well?" asked Ernest, not quite sure whether he was not showing too much curiosity.

"Yes, they pay me well. I have some money in the bank."

Then Ernest remembered having seen the Indian one day at the bank. He was told at the time that his name was John Castro, and that he had several hundred dollars on deposit.

CHAPTER XV.

A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.

While Ernest's clothes were drying the Indian woman was bustling about the stove. The boy did not suspect her object till she placed on the table a plate of Indian cakes hot from the oven, and he was invited to partake.

It was the first time he had ever been a guest in an Indian family, and he hesitated, but saw that his refusal to partake might hurt the feelings of his new friends. He seated himself at the table and found the cakes really very good.

When his clothes were dry he rose to go.

"Won't you stay all night?" asked Castro.

"Thank you. I cannot spare the time. I must push on."

"Where are you going?" asked the Indian.

"To Lee's Falls."

"I will go with you a short distance."

So they set out together.

At length John Castro stopped.

"That is your way," he said. "I wish you a pleasant journey. I will not forget what you have done for my little son. If ever you are in trouble, send for John Castro."

"I thank you."

The Indian shook hands with him gravely, and turned back towards his cabin.

All this had taken time. Ernest had no watch with him, but he estimated that the adventure had cost him two hours. However, he had saved a boy's life.

Again, he had made a friend. The friend was an Indian, but Ernest was wise enough to consider that no friend, however humble, is to be despised.

It was clear that he would reach his destination late, and he began to wish that some carriage would overtake him in which he might ask for a ride.