“Better git back to camp. I don’t allow no Injun to drive me out until I git ready.”
The party went back over the rocky way, and Damand saw, with silent rage, that it was upon the arm of Bentley the maid leaned, and his words which pleased her most. But he waited his time, satisfied that his turn must come. They set to work and collected the scattered articles, which in the late trouble had got into confusion. The traps were in a bad way, and many of them needed resetting. The four men went the rounds that day and got every thing in order, and brought in a number of fine skins.
“These are valuable skins,” said Bentley. “I have been in the fur trade myself, and I never saw better beaver.”
“They ain’t been thinned out much,” replied Ben. “All the old uns ar’ hyar yit. It makes a big difference.”
“I know it does. What a pity we must be driven away so soon.”
“Ef it wa’n’t for the gal, we’d stay hyar and brass it out. But, while we’ve got weak ’uns like that with us, it makes a man cowardly. So we must git back ez soon ez we kin. Onc’t she is safe to the forts, I’m comin’ back, fer one.”
“I would not, if I were you,” said Jules. “It is dangerous.”
“Who keers for a little danger? Any man kin git into danger ef he wants to. It’s the spice of life, danger is. Go out fer that trap, Jules, I’m a little stiff after my run. I ain’t ez strong ez I used to be.”
“You can run faster than any man in the party now,” said Bentley. “And who among us is able to jump twenty-three feet?”
“The old man ain’t dead yit,” replied Ben, grinning. “He’ll do a power of work afore he goes under. Yes, he will; you bet on it. An’ as for the durned Injuns, they may drive us away now, but we’ll come back. And to-morrer we’ve got to build a raft. ’Twon’t do to be taken unawares. Hurry up!”