"Yas," answered John, "plenty war-parties he goin' h'out h'all time, take plenty horses. Goin' to Crow, h'Assinaboine, Gros Ventres, Pend d'Oreilles, h'all peoples. Sometime goin' 'gainst white mans."
"And I suppose plenty of people come to war against them, too," said Hugh. "If they take lots of horses, they lose lots too, I expect."
"Hoh' yas," said John, "plenty horses stolen. Last summer Crows he take 'im 'bout two hundred, one night. Lone Person he loss 'bout hundred. You know it Heavy Runner—white mans call 'im Brocky. Well, seh, last summer, Crees he comin' down pour steal 'im horses. Somebody see it, h'every body h'running try pour keel 'im Crees. Young man, Wolf Eagle, Cree shoot it 'im in h'arm. Heavy Runner he chase 'im one Cree; Cree jump in washout pour fight; shoot it 'im Heavy Runner in forehead; Heavy Runner shoot it, keel 'im Cree. Heavy Runner get well, may be bullet follow bone of his haid round, no go through. Plenty dances over Cree his scalp. War now, not so good lak' in h'ole days. Too much soldier now; chase it war-party, take away horses."
"Yes, I expect it's a heap different up there now from what it used to be; like it is everywhere in the country since the railroads come and turned things upside down. There's too many people in the country now, and they ain't the right sort of people either."
"Yas, Hugh, h'ole man, peoples lak' you an' me we can' change, we too h'ole. We been loky we was borned in good times, mais we had bad lok we lived too long."
"Well, anyhow, John, I'd like mighty well to go up north again, and maybe I will some day. When you goin' back there?"
"My not know yet. Maybe one, two mont'. Suppose maybe you goin' back sem time my go?"
John stopped talking, and taking his pipe from his fire bag, began to clean and fill it. This was rather a long slow process, during which nothing was said. After the pipe was going well, John sat back, and casting his eyes about the bunk-house noticed the bear-skin hanging against the wall. Pointing to it, he said, "You kill it' 'im bear, Hugh?"
"No, the boss killed that fellow. It must have just come out, for it was right fat. There is lots of bears here, John, but no buffalo. We've got to go more'n two hundred miles to kill buffalo. Last year I seen one dead one out on the prairie about twenty-five miles from here, but that's the only one I've seen about here in a long time. Plenty buffalo up north, I expect."
"Plenty," was the answer. "He trade it two store, Carroll. H'all H'ingin' comin' trade; Cree, h'Assinaboine, Gros Ventres, Sircee, Blackfeet, Blood, Piegan; got plenty whisky, trade plenty h'robe. Sometime he faightin', les chauvages, when he bin dronk. Sometimes he keel it two tree H'ingin' faightin: sometime in winter, cole he keel it, froze 'im so he was die. You know it Calf Shirt, Blood Chief; well, seh, he keel it 'im white mans. Calf Shirt he dronk, want keel it white mans, one h'woman run quick tole um. When Calf Shirt cornin' pour faight, white mans shoot it 'im, maybe six, seven, ten time. Soon he daid."