“I’m goin’ to sleep then,” and rolling himself up in his buffalo-blanket, all but his feet, disappeared from view.
“It’s ’bout time to snooze, I think,” remarked the trapper, in a lower tone, turning toward me.
“I think so, but I suppose there need be no apprehension of molestation from Injins, need there?”
Biddon looked at me a moment; then one side of his mouth expanded into a broad grin, and he quietly remarked:
“Times are different from what they used to war.”
“Biddon,” said I, after a moment’s silence, “before we saw you we camped upon one side of a stream while you were upon the other. Now, I do not suppose you would willfully harm a stranger; but since I have met you, I have a great desire to know why you fired that shot at Nat. You supposed we were Indians, I presume?”
A quiet smile illumined the trapper’s swarthy visage; and, after waiting a moment, he answered:
“The way on it war this: I seed you and Nat camping there, and I s’pected you war gwine to tramp these parts. I watched you awhile, and was gwine to sing out for you to come over. Then said I, ‘Biddon, you dog, ain’t there a chance to give them a powerful scare.’ First I drawed bead on you, but when that Nat jumped up, I let fly at him, and he kerflummuxed splendid. Howsumever, it’s time to snooze, and I’m in for it.”
With this, we wrapped our blankets around us, and in a few moments were asleep.