They came out of nowhere, going up river or down,
stopped perhaps to smoke a pipe, to exchange a few words, before they
moved on into the hushed places that swallowed them up.
The man's name was Lawanne. He was bound up-stream, after grizzly
bear.
"I was told of an Englishman named Bland who is quite a hunter. I
stopped in here, thinking this was his place and that I might get him
to go on with me," he said to Hollister.
"That's Bland's place down there," Hollister explained.
"So Mrs. Hollister was just telling me. There didn't seem to be
anybody about when I passed. It doesn't matter much, anyway," he
laughed. "The farther I get into this country, the less keen I am to
hunt. It's good enough just to loaf around and look at."
Lawanne had supper with them. Hollister asked him, not only as a
matter of courtesy but with a genuine feeling that he wanted this man
to break bread with them. He could not quite understand that sudden
warmth of feeling for a stranger. He had never in his life been given
to impulsive friendliness. The last five years had not strengthened
his belief in friendships.
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