Everything went well. Signs of fur were good and Bob was brimming over with anticipation when a week later he reached the river.
Bill did not arrive until after dark the next evening, and when he pushed the tilt door open he found Bob frying venison steak and a kettle of tea ready for supper.
"Ho, Bob, back ahead o' me, be un? Where'd ye get th' deer's meat?"
"Knocked un over after you left me. 'Tis fine t' be back an' see you, Bill. I've been wonderful lonesome, and wantin' t' see you wonderful bad."
"An' I was thinkin' ye'd be gettin' lonesome by now. You'll not be mindin' bein' alone when you gets used to un. It's all gettin' used t' un."
"An' what's th' signs o' fur? Be there much marten signs?"
"Aye, some. Looks like un goin' t' be some. An' be there much signs on th' Big Hill trail? Dick says there's a lot o' footin' his way."
"I has one marten," said Bob proudly, "an' finds good signs."
"Un has one a'ready! An' be un a good un?"
"Not so bad."