“The fire must go out, boys.”
“Why? Do you apprehend danger?” I asked.
“Don’t know as I do; I hain’t seed signs, but we’re gittin’ into parts whar we’ve got to be summat skeerish.”
“I suppose it’s about time for the Indians to come?” remarked Nat interrogatively, with a look of fear toward the trapper.
“They’re ’bout these parts. Me’n Jack Javin once got into a scrimmage yer with ’em, when we didn’t ’spect it, and jist ’cause we let our fire burn while we snoozed. I’d seen sign though then, and wanted to put it out, but he wan’t afeared.”
“Let’s have ours out then,” exclaimed Nat excitedly, springing up and scattering the brands around.
“Needn’t mind ’bout that; it’ll go out soon enough.”
As Nat reseated himself, Biddon continued:
“You see, Jarsey, them reds kin smell a white man’s fire a good way off, and on sich a night as this, ef they’re ’bout they’ll be bound to give him a call. You needn’t be afeared, howsumever, to snooze, ’cause they won’t be ’bout.”
It was too cold to enjoy our pipes, and we all bundled up for the night’s rest. In a few moments I heard the trapper’s deep breathing, and shortly after Nat joined him in sleep. But I found it impossible to get to sleep myself. The ground was so cold that my blanket could not protect me, and the cutting wind was terrible. I used every means that I could devise, but it was of no use, and I feared I should be compelled to either build the fire again, or to continue walking all night to prevent freezing to death.