el to quit the cave.

"Stay," cried March, "you only give me one name, friend, so I'll do the
same by you. My name's March--there, now you may march about your
business."

Dick smiled and said, "Well, March, I'll be with ye again, and have a
look at your sore bones, in two minutes."

When he was gone March, for the first time since his accident, bethought
him of his comrades. Since recovering from the state of insensibility
into which his fall had thrown him, his mind had been so absorbed by the
strange events that had been presented to him in such rapid succession,
as well as with the pain that racked his head and limbs, that he had had
no time to think about them. But, now that he was left in that quiet
place alone, the whole circumstances of the recent pursuit and flight
rushed suddenly upon him, and his mind was filled with anxious
forebodings as to the fate of his comrades.

"Oh! I'm glad you've come back," he cried, as Dick re-entered the cave;
"I quite forgot my comrades--shame on me! but my miserable head has got
such a smash, that a'most everything's bin drove out of it."

"Time enough to speak o' them after we've seen to your bones," said
Dick.

"Nay, but--"

"_After_," said Dick in a tone that was not to be gainsaid.

March submitted with a sigh, and his eccentric host proceeded to
manipulate and punch him in a way that might perhaps have been highly
necessary, but was by no means agreeable. After a few minutes he
pronounced his patient all right, only a little bruised! Having said
which, he proceeded to prepare some food, and said to March that he
might now speak about his comrades.

At first he seemed to pay little attention to the youth's hasty
narrative; but on hearing that the Indians were hastening to attack the
Mountain Fort, he sprang up, and asked a few questions eagerly. It was
evident that the news troubled him deeply.

Taking one or two hasty strides up and down the cavern, and paying no
attention to the roasting meat, which he seemed to have utterly
forgotten, the Wild Man of the West muttered angrily to himself, and a
slight dash of that tiger-like flash, which had gone so far to earn him
his title, lighted up his blue eyes, insomuch that March Marston looked
at him in amazement not unmingled with awe. Thoughts of the Wild Man of
the West once more occurred to him; but in his former cogitations on
that subject he had so thoroughly discarded the idea of this kind,
blue-eyed h