Fifteen or twenty men galloped from the trees, and
Ned and Obed, breaking cover, greeted them with joyous shouts, which the
men returned in kind.
"You don't come to much," exclaimed Ned, "but we can say to you that
never were men more welcome."
"Which I beg to repeat and emphasize," said Obed White.
"Speak a little louder," said the foremost of the men, leaning from his
horse and couching one hand behind his ear.
Ned repeated his words in a much stronger tone, and the man nodded and
smiled. Ned looked at him with the greatest interest. He was of middle
age and medium size. Hair and eyes were intensely black, and his
complexion was like dark leather. Dressed in Indian costume he could
readily have passed for a warrior. Yet this man had come from the far
northern state of New York, and it was only the burning suns of the
Texas and North Mexican plains that had turned him to his present
darkness.
"Glad to meet you, my boy," he said, leaning from his horse and holding
out a powerful hand, burnt as dark as his face. "My name's Smith,
Erastus Smith."
Ned grasped his hand eagerly. This was the famous "Deaf" Smith--destined
to become yet more famous--although they generally pronounced it D-e-e-f
in Texas.
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