could not help reminding Miller that we had lost more time
in discussion than it would have taken to prove the case one way or the
other. This was our only dispute, and it was not serious.

CHAPTER XV.

DIPLOMACY.

We had a rubber poncho and three blankets with us, and the country
through which we had passed had seemed so sparsely settled that we were
traveling by day and sleeping at night, getting our scarce and poor food
as occasion offered and living upon anything but a generous diet.

About dusk on the day of our little difference we were looking for a
safe place to camp, when we saw the figure of a man on the opposite side
of an open space. He was evidently surveying us intently, as he stood
stock still, and his appearance was not rendered more attractive to us
by the fact that he held a gun in the hollow of his left arm.

We sank gracefully to the ground and waited for some hail which would
announce to us the intentions of our friend. None coming, we concluded
that he was as much afraid of us as we were of him, and I crawled to a
spot where I could see, without rising, what had become of him. He still
stood there, evidently awaiting our next move, and I slunk back to my
companions.

We decided that the quickest way to learn who and what he was would be
to approach him, and that he certainly would not shoot if we held up our
hands. Accordingly we stood up, held up our hands, and stepped boldly
out into the clearing, I calling out:

"We are unarmed and are friends."

Not a move did he make, but we fancied we could see the gun move a
little, and we quickly halted, Rummel exclaiming:

"Don't shoot! we are unarmed and peaceable citizens."

As he said this, Miller burst into a loud laugh, and quickly ran toward
the figure. We instantly comprehended the situation and followed him,
arriving at the fantastic stump of a burned tree, to be saluted by
Miller with:

"Would you unarmed and peaceable citizens kindly recollect this event
when you are inclined to joke me about that canoe?"

We had nothing to say.

The next day we met a negro, who gave us our course for Dangerfield,
describing a corner of the square in the town, from which a plain road
led to a ferry across the Sulphur Fork of Red River.

This was the 27th of December, and we reached the outskirts of the town
late in the afternoon, hiding in some bushes until night.

When it was late enough we started boldly through the town, found the
c