CHAPTER XI.
AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE.
There was an interested and anxious group gathered around the trappers’ camp-fire, on the evening succeeding the adventures we have narrated.
The three were together, and they had taken all necessary precautions against danger from the Indians. The entrance to their underground house had been securely closed by means of an immense boulder, that was only shoved into position by means of their united strength, and the fire was kindled so far back that there was no danger of its being discovered by any one, not even by looking down the rent through which the smoke found its way out of the cavern.
The night was quite cool, and they had an abundance of fuel, so that every provision had been made for their comfort. They had eaten supper, too, although neither of the three had much appetite for it.
They were smoking, and, as a matter of course, discussing the all-absorbing topic of the day. Black Tom was the first to display his nugget with a triumphant air, which changed somewhat when old Stebbins produced a still larger one, and Teddy began to disgorge from what seemed his inexhaustible pocket.
The entire wealth was emptied into a heap, where the firelight shone full upon it. The three contemplated it a few moments, and then removing his pipe, Tom grinned and asked:
“How many skins and peltries would we have to take into St. Louey to raise that amount of specie?”
“Several years work,” replied his elder companion.