“Ye wouldn’t mind tryin’ to help a feller out of sech a scrape as this that I’m into—would ye?—ef a chance should show itself?”
“I would be glad to assist you, of course; but it would be a difficult thing to do. Have you killed any of the Arapahoes?”
“Nary red-skin. Hain’t done ’em a bit of harm—leastways, not on this tramp.”
“It must have been on some former occasion, then. I heard them say that you were a dangerous enemy.”
“It’s easy enough to guess what you are,” thought the hunter. “A minute ago ye ’lowed that I was a red-skin, and now ye say that ye’ve heerd the ’Rapahoes talkin’ about Old Blaze, as well they may. A man who takes to hard lyin’ ort to hev a good memory. But I’ll give ye a leetle more rope, and see whar ye’ll run to.”
“Inimy or no inimy,” he said, “I know what the critturs are and I know that they’re likely to give me the wust kind of a killin’ they kin scare up, unless I should happen to slip away from them, and I don’t see any chance fur doin’ that, without help. Bein’ as ye’re a white man, I ’lowed ye’d be glad to help a feller creetur in distress.”
“Certainly. Any thing I can do will be cheerfully done. But it’s a difficult thing, as I told you. The Indians are very angry, and I, if I should be discovered, would share your fate. Besides, the Arapahoes are owing me a large sum. If I should lose it, it would ruin me. I must be very careful, you see, and it is doubtful whether I can accomplish any thing.”
“I see that ye’re a sneak,” thought Old Blaze. “Any white man who was raally white would hev come to see me afore this, and would hev been keen to help me without any axin’. It’s jist the easiest thing on airth fur a man to find excuses fur not doin’ what he don’t want to do.”
“Yaas,” he said. “I wouldn’t hev ye resk yer precious life, stranger, fur twenty doxen skulps like mine; and when it comes to reskin’ dollars, why, reckon no mortal man would be so owdacious as to ax that of ye. I’m a thousand times obleeged to ye fur yer good wishes, and I make no doubt that ye’ll do all ye kin—to keep out of trouble. Will ye be so kind as to tell me—ef thar ain’t nothin’ dangerous or costly in it—whether thar’s an Injun gal livin’ hyar, who goes by the name of Dove-eye?”
This question made the trader start. He turned quickly upon the speaker, and his countenance plainly showed the suspicion that had sprung up in his breast.