“‘He’s here right among you,’ said the ole man, the tears rollin’ down his cheeks. ‘He’s right among you. That knife couldn’t got in here without hands; an’ thar’s somebody in this yere camp, that’s helped Black Bill in makin’ his escape. Speak, men, who’s the outlaw’s friend?’
“But still no one answered. We all knowed he war thar, but how could we tell who it war, when we had no proff ag’in any one?
“‘Bring him out, boys,’ said the old man, at last. ‘He war a kind son, an’ a good trapper. But he’s done his work now, an’ we’ve lost one of the best men in our comp’ny.’
“Wal, we carried poor Ned out, an’ arter layin’ him in my cabin, we started off on the trail of the outlaw. But he had a good long start, an’ that night we had to come back without him. I’ve never seen him from that day to this.
“The next mornin’ none of us went out to trap, fur we couldn’t help thinkin’ of poor Ned. He war the fust chum I had ever had, an’ me an’ him had been together a’most ever since we had strength to shoulder a rifle—more’n ten year—an’, in course, I war in natur’ bound to avenge him. I staid in my quarters, wonderin’ who it war that had helped the outlaw; when, all of a sudden, I happened to think of somethin’ that brought me to my feet in a hurry, an’ sent me into ole Jim’s quarters. I talked the matter over with him, told him what I thought, an’, in a few minits more, we called our boys together, an’ war marchin’ t’wards the trader’s camp. The darkey war cookin’ his master’s breakfast, in front of the cabin, singin’ an’ whistlin’ as jolly as could be; but when he seed us a comin’ he shet up in a mighty hurry, an’ actooally turned white! I knowed he wouldn’t act that ar’ way if he warn’t guilty, so I sung out, ‘Here’s the traitor, boys!’
“The darkey, seein’ that the thing war out, started to run. He hadn’t gone far, howsomever, afore we had him, an’ then he ’fessed the hul bisness. He said he had told the outlaw that the cap’n war goin’ to take his money-bags with him, an’ that, bein’ the last to leave Black Bill arter we had tied him, he had hid the knife in his bed. The pris’ner’s arms had been fastened above his elbows, an’, in course, havin’ a sharp we’pon, it war the easiest thing in the world to cut himself loose, an’ to pitch into poor Ned afore he knowed it. Arter he had ’fessed this, we held a council, an’ prairy law tuk its course. This skeered the trader wusser nor ever. If his own servant war treacherous, he couldn’t trust nobody. So he ordered us to break up our camp an’ strike fur the fort. When we got thar, an’ offered to give up our hosses an’ we’pons, he wouldn’t listen to it at all. He said that we had saved him an’ his money-bags, an’ that we could keep our kit, an’ welcome.
“Wal, our huntin’ expedition bein’ broke up, we put out on our own hook. We still thought that them four fellers b’longed to Black Bill’s party, an’ we soon found that it war so; fur we had hardly got out of sight, afore they started fur the mountains. They knowed ’bout whar to go to find the outlaw, an’ they’ve been with him ever since, robbin’ an’ stealin’. One of his party has been rubbed out, but thar ar’ four of them left yet, an’ they do a heap of mischief. I have looked an’ watched fur ’em fur years, an’ if I never find ’em, I shall leave ’em to Dick; so I know justice will be done ’em. If you had knowed all these things, youngster, I don’t reckon you would have slept very sound in Black Bill’s camp.”