's a ghost _at last_!" muttered the superstitious Irishman, whose
expression of countenance showed that he was not by any means in a
jesting humour.

"Ghost or not, we must be prepared to meet him," said Will, loosening a
large hunting-knife in its sheath and examining the priming of his
rifle.

The strange horseman had evidently observed the party, for he presently
descended the rising ground and rode slowly towards them. In doing so
he passed out of the strong light, and consequently assumed more
ordinary proportions, but still when he drew near, it was evident that
he was a man of immense size. He rode a black steed of the largest and
most powerful description; was clad in the leathern hunting-shirt, belt,
leggings, moccasins, etcetera, peculiar to the western hunter, and
carried a short rifle in the hollow of his right arm.

"Good-evening, strangers," he said, in a tone that savoured of the
Yankee, but with an easy manner and good-humoured gravity that seemed to
indicate English extraction. "Goin' far?"

"To California," said Will, smiling at the abrupt commencement of the
conversation.

"H'm, a longish bit. Come far?"

"From England."

"H'm, a longish bit, too. Lost and starvin', I see."

"Not exactly, but pretty nearly so," said Will. "I had entertained the
belief, presumptuous if you will, that I could find my way in any part
of the wilderness by means of a sextant and pocket compass, and, to say
truth, I don't feel quite sure that I should have failed, but before I
had a sufficient opportunity of testing my powers, one of our baggage
horses rolled down the bank of a creek and broke my sextant. In trying
to save him I rolled down along with him and smashed my compass, so I
have resigned the position of guide in favour of my friend here, who,
being a native, seems to possess a mysterious power in the matter of
finding his way."

"From the other side of the mountains?" asked the strange horseman,
glancing at Bunco.

"Yoo's right," said Bunco, with a grin.

There was a slight touch of humour in the grave stern countenance of the
stranger as he replied in a language which was quite unintelligible to
Will and Larry, but which appeared to create wonderful sensations in the
breast of Bunco, who for some minutes continued to talk with much
volubility and eagerness.

"You appear to be old friends?" said Will, inquiringly, to the stranger.

"Not 'xactly," he replied, "but I've trapped on the west si