“Is that the reason you left, eh?” said Jules.
“Ye bet ye! I liked it there fust rate. They never made me go out on the’r war-parties unless I hed a mind to, though I went out offen enough, fer thet matter. Ye see, I’m down on Blackfeet fer more reasons then one; an’ the Crows are the nat’ral inemies of them critters. I’d like to extarminate the hull cussed race of them, durn the’r picters!”
“What makes you hate the Blackfeet so?” said Jules.
“I’ll tell yer. ’Tain’t less’n ten years ago I was trappin’ on the north branch of the Platte with a comrade of mine, a likely chap as you ever see, Jim Johnson was his name, and the best-hearted feller in Oregon. We made a heap of pelts, ye bet, an’ was countin’ on a lively time at the forts the next winter. Jim hed a gal thar, an’ was allus lettin’ on how happy he’d be when he c’u’d see her ag’in. He never did, poor feller. I’d been out to see after my traps, gone nigh on to half a day, mout be, an’ was comin’ home with a load of pelts, fo’ we hed been lucky all through, an’ when I got to the cabin we’d built, thar he lay, with his head split like an egg-shell, an’ sculped. I looked around an’ found Blackfoot signs everywhar, durn the’r hides. I know them, an’ I’ll make them pay fer it some day. I promised him then, as he lay thar, thet I’d avenge him on the Blackfeet. Mout be I’ve done it; mout be I didn’t. Anyhow I’ve got my opinion, an’ I’ll back it thet the Blackfeet are sorry they killed Jim Johnson.”
“Do you know who the men are that killed him?” asked Jules.
“Yes. Thar’s only two of them on the’r feet to-day, an’ they ar’ bound to go under ef ever they meet Ben Miffin, or else he goes under—and he don’t think he will.”
“Who are they?”
“One’s a big Blackfoot brave they call Whirling Breeze, an’ the other a white-livered cuss who claims to be a white man. Precious little civilized blood he’s got in his veins, an’ that he’s got is mighty mean. He’s a renegade, an’ I tell ye a renegade is the worst of all God’s creatures.”
“What’s his name?”
“Will Markman. They call him by some Indian name. The worst of it is, his white blood shows more then the Indian, an’ he is ez handsome a feller ez you ever see. But he’s got a cruel heart in his breast. God pity him if I ever meet him.”