“‘I b’long anywhere night ketches me,’ answered the stranger. ‘I’m an ole trapper in these yere parts.’
“‘Whar’s your hoss?’ asked ole Bob.
“‘I left him dead on the prairy—dead as a herrin’. I rid him a leetle too hard, I reckon. I war chasin’ up the black mustang.’
“If I should live to be a hundred year older ’n I’m now, an’ should live among the Blackfoot Injuns the hull time, I shouldn’t expect to hear another sich a yell as ’em trappers give when the stranger mentioned the black mustang. They crowded round him like a flock o’ sheep, all askin’ him questions; an’ he tried to answer ’em all to onct; an’ sich a row as there war round that camp-fire for a few minits! It war wusser nor any Injun war-dance I ever seed. Now, me an’ Bill hadn’t never seed the black mustang, nor heerd o’ him afore, ’cause we hadn’t trapped in that part o’ the country for a’most three year, but we knowed in a minit that it must be the leader o’ some drove. But Bill had lived among the Injuns so much that he had got kinder used to their ways, an’ he didn’t like to see them trappers carryin’ on so, an’ actin’ like a parcel o’ young’uns jest turned loose from school; so, as soon as he could make himself heered, he yelled:
“‘What in tarnation’s the matter with you fellers? As soon as you git through hollerin’, me an’ Dick would like to know what all this yere fuss is about.’
“‘Why, the black mustang has been within ten mile of this yere camp to-night,’ said one of the trappers.
“‘Wal, an’ what o’ that?’ said Bill. ’Ar the black mustang any better hoss than the gray king?’
“They all set up another yell at this, an’ one of ’em said:
“‘Why, the gray ain’t nothin’ ’long side o’ the black mustang. He could run away from him in less’n two minits. I guess you hain’t hearn tell of him, have you?’
“‘In course I hain’t,’ said Bill.