“It seems our separation is to be something like it was before,” I laughed. “I believe you had a small opinion of my abilities at that time.”
“Wal, yer’s as hopes you’ll come out right side up this time. In course I’ll have a glimpse of that ugly face of your’n agin. In course.”
“I don’t know about that. As you have gone into the service of the Hudson Bay Company, your sphere of action will be far removed from mine, and it will be an occurrence which I cannot imagine at this time that will bring us together.”
“That ain’t so sartin,” said the trapper, in a low, confidential tone. “I rather opine I’ll be down in Westport or Independence this fall, and ef these fellows cac’lates on keepin’ me around, they’ve got to step round ’emselves. Shoot me if they hain’t, ogh!”
“I hope you will not spend your life in the dreary region north of this, for it will indeed be a dreary, lonely life for you.”
“Wal, you see, Jarsey,” he continued, with a shade of feeling, “it don’t make much difference whar I traps. Yer’s as s’pects to go under somewhar in the mountains, and leave my topknot fur the buzzards and reds, and it mought as well be in one part as t’other of this country.”
“Fudge, Biddon, don’t talk that way. Why I am sure I shall see you settled down in the States with a wife and a dozen children—”
I paused as I noticed the trapper’s face. Some strange emotion was gaining the mastery over him; but he conquered in a minute.
“Never talk that way agin, Jarsey; I can’t stand it.”
“Pardon me; you will soon be under way,” I spoke, wishing to pass from the allusion which had been so painful to him. He turned, and looking at the brigade, which was making preparations to start, answered: