“Quick! give me something to eat before I starve!”
“All right, you shall have it,” replied Old Ruff, “only sit up like a Christian and eat it.”
A few minutes sufficed to make matters clear, and as Harry began to eat the tempting fish he looked around for the Blackfeet, and seeing them not, made inquiry.
“That ’ere Maquesa is the cunningest varmint I ever run afoul of,” said the trapper, after answering the question; “of course he knowed that I was arter him, ever since that night Speckled Beauty walked into camp and told him so. He never stopped to see me, but he just tramped ahead, and arter fixing things to suit him, he then turned ’bout to meet me. He must have seen us when I left you yesterday, and, waitin’ till I had got out of sight, he went in to plague you a little, for the old greaser ain’t above a joke now and then.”
“But he showed no disposition to hurt me,” said Harry.
“’Cause I come up in time to sp’ile thar game, but ef I’d stayed away a couple of hours longer they’d put you through a course of sprouts, and made you b’l’eve sartin you war goin’ to be skulped and burnt at the stake. That was all them varmints come fur—just for the sake of having a little fun out of you.”
“Then I’m very glad you put in an appearance when you did, for I don’t fancy these red-skins, and I don’t understand all the little tricks they’re up to. If they had begun that business I’d been certain they were in dead earnest, and would have done my best to use my gun or rifle upon them, and then I suppose the fun would have turned to dead earnest.”
“You may bet on that; that ain’t the kind of fun they fancy, and them other two chaps with him are a couple of bloody dogs that would have been glad of the chance to split your head open.”
“But what about Little Rifle?” asked Harry, unable longer to conceal his impatience. “I noticed that you talked Indian, so you must have given Maquesa a chance to do most of the talking.”
“He speaks English purty well, but of course it ain’t like his own woshy-boshy, so I steered ahead in that.”