“I know vat dey pe; dey sits on a stone in der mill, mit dere little chisels, unt go chip, chip, chip on der stones; dat ish vat a Mill’rite pe.”
“Ye git out! ’tain’t no sech thing; this hyar critter was a preacher. He was a long-haired, lanky chap, with jaws ez long ez my knife. I didn’t believe him then; I do now. Blame me ef I ever hern tell of sech a thing. Come hyar, Diamond.”
The white horse, which had been straying at will about the cañon, came at his call, and rubbed his beautiful head against the trapper’s shoulder. The old man returned the caress by gently stroking the silken mane and putting it back from the ears of the noble animal.
“I kin forgive ’em a good deal, seein’ they left ye to me,” said Ben. “Ef they’d taken ye away, old hoss, I’d ’a’ gone for ’em in a way thet would hev set ’em back sev’ral files, the durned critters.”
“Penn,” said Jan, “somepoty’s a-coomin’.”
“Whar?” said Ben.
“Listen, unt you hear ’em. A horse is valking dis vay.”
“Git to kiver then. Into the hut; it’s the only place. Blame my cats ef they ain’t comin’ back.”
They plunged hastily into the cabin and barred the door. This done, they went to the side looking toward the entrance to the cañon and watched. They could hear the hoofs of the coming horse, and make out that he was advancing slowly. At last the head of the horse appeared in view, then the rider, and they saw who it was. Jules Damand! His hands and feet were tied, and he could urge his horse forward only very slowly. Both the men started out eagerly to meet him, followed by Millicent. They cut his bonds and assisted him to alight.
“Ve t’ought you vas teat,” said Jan.