"No; the hair of Deerfoot grows on his head; he would be sad if it covered his face."
"So would I, for it would make a confounded queer looking creatur' of you. I would like to see an Injin got up in that style; just think of Tecumseh with a big mustache and whiskers! Beavers!"
The conceit was equally enjoyed by Deerfoot, who fairly shook with mirth. He recalled the time when he confronted the mighty chieftain, with drawn knife and compressed lips, and the picture of that terrible being, with his face covered by whiskers, was a drop from the sublime to the ridiculous, which would have brought a laugh to any one.
Burt Hawkins evidently held his visitor in esteem, for, reaching out his horny hand, he gently passed his fingers over the cheek nearest him, and then drew it across the chin.
"No; there's no beard there. It's as smooth as the cheeks of my little five-year old Peggy at home. It always struck me as qu'ar that Injins don't have beards, but I s'pose it's because the old fellows, several thousand years ago, began plucking out the hairs that came on the face, and their children have kept it up so long that it has discouraged the industry in them regions. See?"
To assist Deerfoot to catch the force of his illustration, Burt gave him several digs in the ribs. This familiarity would have been annoying under most circumstances, but it was manifest from the manner of the warrior that he rather enjoyed the effusiveness of the magnificent fellow.
"Why is my brother in the woods alone?" he asked, when matters calmed down.
"I can't say I'm exactly alone, Deerfoot, for Kit Kellogg and Tom Crumpet ain't fur off, and that meat thar is gettin' cold waiting for them to come and gobble it; if they ain't here in a few minutes you and me will insert our teeth. We've been trappin' all winter down to the south'rd and have got a good pile of peltries; we've got 'em gathered, and loaded, too, and are on our way to St. Louis with 'em; warm weather is comin', and the furs are beginnin' to get poor, so we shall hang our harps on the willers till cold weather begins agin."
"My brothers are coming," said Deerfoot, quietly, referring to two other hunters who at that moment put in an appearance.