“That woke him up, I suppose?” said Bart.
“It just did, my lad; and before the Indians knew where he was, he went plop into the river and disappeared, and the Injun ran down to catch him as he came up again.”
“And,” said Bart, quickly, “they didn’t catch sight of his head when he came above the water, because he swam up with the eddy into a dark pool among some rocks, and squatted there, with only his nose above the water, till they thought he was drowned, and went, and then he crept out.”
“Why, how did you know?” growled Joses.
“Because you’ve told me half-a-dozen times before. I recollect now,” said Bart, “only you began it in a different way, so that I thought it was a new story; and you were that young man, Joses.”
“Course I was,” growled the other; “but hang me if I tell you a story again.”
“Never mind, Joses; here’s another,” cried Bart, laughing.
“And here’s a bigger one, Master Bart,” said Joses, chuckling.
“What splendid sport!” cried Bart, as he followed Joses ashore with his prize, and added it to the silvery heap.
“Ay, it ain’t amiss. We shall give them a reg’lar treat in the camp, that we shall.”