“I nefer dells a man he lie,” said Jan, coolly, “put ven I lie I dalks yoost ash you pees dalkin’ now. Vat you dink of dat, eh?”
The young lady took the food offered her by the Frenchman, with a smile and bow, and ate with a keen appetite. The others helped themselves, and even the wounded man disposed of a goodly quantity of the savory meat. When they had finished, Jules cleared the table by the summary process of throwing the bark into the river, and they drew up beside the fire upon which Ben threw more wood.
“Ef it wouldn’t be askin’ too much, young lady, I’d like to know how you kem here. It ain’t often we see young an’ handsome gals out in the Black Hills.”
“You have a right to know, after what you have done for us,” she answered, in a sweet voice.
“Now don’t ye begin thet ’ar way,” said Ben. “I won’t stand it. We ain’t done nothin’.”
“You saved us from that terrible creature.”
“Psho! What signifies pullin’ a trigger? Thet ain’t no trouble to a man thet’s used to lookin’ through the double sights. Tell yer story, and never ye mind us. We mout hev the will to do ye good, mebbe, s’posin’ we got a chaince. What’s yer name?”
“My name is Millicent Carter,” she answered. “My companion’s name is Bentley Morris. We had been part of a party of emigrants on their way to the Far West. I suppose it is the old story to you. We were attacked by Indians in the night, and we are all that they left to tell the story.”
“Der Sherusalem!” cried Jan, with a look of horror. “I hate Injuns.”
“It was the durned Blackfeet, I’ll bet a farm in Nebraska,” said Ben. “What? Not one of all the comp’ny left but you two?”