"More'n once," said Ed. "There were th' time, now, I comes t' my tilt an' finds a hull passel o' Mountaineers--they wan't friendly in them days, th' Bay Mountaineers wan 't--so many they eats up a hull barrel o' my flour t' one meal--"
"Now, Ed," broke in Dick, in evident disgust, "you been tellin' that yarn so many times you believes un yourself. Now, don't tell un ag'in."
"'Tis gospel truth--" Ed began.
"'Tis no kind o' truth."
"Well, an' you don't want t' hear un, I won't tell un," said Ed, with an air of injured innocence.
"'What was it, Ed, that happened you?" asked Shad, laughing, for he had learned to know the peculiarities of these two friends.
"Dick's not wantin' t' hear un, Shad. He gets all ruffled up when I tells o' some happenin' I been havin' that's bigger'n any he ever has. I won't tell un now; 'twould make he feel bad, an' I don't want t' make he feel bad, nohow," said Ed, with mock magnanimity. "But there were another time--I'll tell you o' this, Shad, an' Dick don't mind?"
"Oh, go ahead an' yarn, if you wants to! But th' Lard'll strike you dead some day, Ed, for lyin';" and Dick turned toward the canoes in disgust.
"Now Dick's mad," Ed laughed, "but don't mind he, Shad; he'll get over un."
"As I was sayin', now, 'twas when I was layin' my trail t' th' nu'th'ard o' Wanokapow. I gets my tilt built an' all in shape an' stocked up, an' I goes out one mornin' lookin' t' kill a bit o' fresh meat. 'Tis early, an' too soon t' set up th' traps, for th' fur ain't prime.