"
"Who is this big man coming from the the fort?" asked Joe, suddenly
observing a stalwart frontiersman approaching.
"Major Sam McColloch. You have met him. He's the man who jumped his
horse from yonder bluff."
"Jonathan and he have the same look, the same swing," observed Joe,
as he ran his eye over the major. His faded buckskin costume,
beaded, fringed, and laced, was similar to that of the colonel's
brother. Powder-flask and bullet-pouch were made from cow-horns and
slung around his neck on deerhide strings. The hunting coat was
unlaced, exposing, under the long, fringed borders, a tunic of the
same well-tanned, but finer and softer, material. As he walked, the
flaps of his coat fell back, showing a belt containing two knives,
sheathed in heavy buckskin, and a bright tomahawk. He carried a long
rifle in the hollow of his arm.
"These hunters have the same kind of buckskin suits," continued Joe;
"still, it doesn't seem to me the clothes make the resemblance to
each other. The way these men stand, walk and act is what strikes me
particularly, as in the case of Wetzel."
"I know what you mean. The flashing eye, the erect poise of
expectation, and the springy step--those, my lad, come from a life
spent in the woods. Well, it's a grand way to live."
"Colonel, my horse is laid up," said Major McColloch, coming to the
steps.
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