It was made with very little regard to “style;” the rocks themselves afforded the rear, and two sides. The roof was constructed by laying saplings and branches across the top and covering them with leaves and twigs to such a depth that they afforded an impervious protection against the inclemency of the weather. The interior was divided into two apartments, the partition being formed, mainly like the front, of buffalo and bear-skins, firmly fastened to poles.
Thus a secure and comfortable retreat was afforded, no matter how great the cold might be. Within were piles of the richest and choicest furs, including those of the beaver, otter, fox, marten, bear and buffalo. Some of these were exceedingly valuable, being rich, glossy and of velvety softness; for Old Robsart was as thorough a trapper as he was a hunter, and he had a collection of peltries already secured, that, when put in the market at San Francisco, would bring him a little fortune in its way. The furs were all the best of their kind, for he was too good a connoisseur to accept any of a second-rate quality. Many a time, he took the beaver out of the trap, examined him a moment, and then let him go in peace, until he could get in better condition, by which time, also, the sagacious animal was sure to be cute enough to keep clear of all contrivances intended to entrap him, all of which Old Robsart could not fail to know, but which did not affect his line of conduct, as there were surely a thousand times more fur bearing creatures in the North-west, than a regiment of trappers like him could hope to capture.
No fire was ever kindled within this primitive home; for these downy furs kept so much of the natural heat of the body that the most cold-blooded need not be uncomfortable. The fire needed for cooking purposes was always made somewhere else.
Little Rifle’s anxiety now was to see whether his friend and patron was at home before him. Knowing that there was always a possibility of some treacherous red-skin lying in wait, in the cabin, he paused when some distance away, and gave utterance to a sort of whistle that was always used as a signal between him and his friend.
To his delight, this signal was instantly answered from within the cabin.
“He is there!” he exclaimed, running forward, along the gorge. “Hello, Uncle Ruff!”
The round full moon was shining from an unclouded sky, so that objects were seen quite distinctly for a considerable distance. As he spoke, the form of a man of goodly size, with immense flowing beard, drew the buffalo-skin that answered for a door aside, and stepped outside. His dress was somewhat similar to that worn by the lad, except that instead of his jaunty hat, he wore a close-fitting cap of fur. He was a man of great strength and activity, and seemed to be in the very prime of vigorous manhood, although evidently verging on his sixty years.
“Wal, my little pet, you’re back again,” he said, as he looked kindly down upon the lad, and reached out both his hands to grasp his. “Hello! You’ve got two guns have you? What does that mean? Have you been assassinating some traveling gunsmith?”
“No, Uncle Ruff, I took that from a Blackfoot Indian.”
“Found him asleep, I s’pose, with that ’ere piece hung up at the head of his bed.”