“Ye wasn’t? What made ye climb the tree, then?” said Ben.
“Pecause I can not see no pear on the ground, unt I climbs oop the tree to look vor him, unt ven I gits dere, I can see no pear. Den I knows dere vas no pear, unt dat you vas no more ash von liar like auvery Yankee.”
Ben laughed heartily and turned his attention to the food which the Frenchman was cooking over the blaze. He had built his fire with all the care of the frontierman. First, the light leaves were ignited, then some small twigs, which would burn without smoke, were added, and when these had kindled into flame, larger sticks were laid on, and the fire was now blazing merrily, though still without much smoke.
“Thet’s the sort of fire to fool a Blackfoot,” said Ben. “Ah, many and many’s the brave fellow hez gone under fer the want of a little care. Now, I don’t know thet ther’s an Injun within twenty mile of us, but I always go to work as ef they were all around, as they may be fer all we know, and most likely ar’.”
“What makes ye think so, Ben?” said Jules.
“’Cause it’s the last of the huntin’ season, an’ the braves are out for buffler. Thet’s my reason. Then, ag’in, ye kain’t depend on a Blackfoot; ther’ a treacherous, hoss-stealin’ set. Mind I tell ye.”
“The Crows are just as bad.”
“No they ain’t. Anyhow, they won’t be to us while I’m hyar. You see they ain’t forgot the’r old chief yet. I calculate I’ve got a wife among ’em som’ers.”
“Don’t you know where she is?”
“Kain’t say thet I do. When I was in the Crow village last, and thet’s three years ago, she were thar. Ther’s a young chief takes care of her on my account, seein’ he ain’t got no father or mother, an’ she sort of adopted him. So I reckon she rubs along right peart. She orter, anyhow. Prehaps I couldn’t appreciate the woman. I didn’t, anyhow.”