“Yes, i’deed,” replied he, with a quiet chuckle, “that many dozen; for every ’un of them nutches count twelve. I only make a nutch when I’ve throwed the clur dozen.”
“A hundred and forty-five dozen!” we repeated in astonishment; and yet I have no doubt of the truth of the trapper’s statement, for he had no interest in deceiving us. I am satisfied from what I knew of him, that he had slain the full number stated—one thousand seven hundred and forty!
Of course we became curious to learn the cause of his antipathy to the prairie-wolves; for we knew he had an antipathy, and it was that that had induced him to commit such wholesale havoc among these creatures. It was from this circumstance he had obtained the soubriquet of “wolf-killer.” By careful management, we at last got him upon the edge of the stray, and quietly pushed him into it. He gave it to us as follows:—
“Wal, strengers, about ten winters agone, I wur travellin’ from Bent’s Fort on the Arkensaw, to ’Laramie on the Platte, all alone by myself. I had undertuk the journey on some business for Bill Bent—no matter now what.
“I had crossed the divide, and got within sight o’ the Black Hills, when one night I had to camp out on the open parairy, without either bush or stone to shelter me.
“That wur, perhaps, the coldest night this nigger remembers; thur wur a wind kim down from the mountains that wud a froze the bar off an iron dog. I gathered my blanket around me, but that wind whistled through it as if it had been a rail-fence.
“’Twan’t no use lyin’ down, for I couldn’t a slep, so I sot up.
“You may ask why I hadn’t a fire? I’ll tell you why. Fust, thur wan’t a stick o’ timber within ten mile o’ me; and, secondly, if thur had been I dasen’t a made a fire. I wur travellin’ as bad a bit o’ Injun ground as could been found in all the country, and I’d seen Injun sign two or three times that same day. It’s true thur wur a good grist o’ buffler-chips about, tol’ably dry, and I mout have made some sort o’ a fire out o’ that; an’ at last I did make a fire arter a fashion. I did it this a way.
“Seeing that with the cussed cold I wan’t agoin’ to get a wink o’ sleep, I gathered a wheen o’ the buffler-chips. I then dug a hole in the ground with my bowie, an’ hard pickin’ that wur; but I got through the crust at last, and made a sort o’ oven about a fut, or a fut and a half deep. At the bottom I laid some dry grass and dead branches o’ sage plant, and then settin’ it afire, I piled the buffler-chips on top. The thing burnt tol’able well, but the smoke o’ the buffler-dung would a-choked a skunk.
“As soon as it had got fairly under way, I hunkered, an’ sot down over the hole, in sich a position as to catch all the heat under my blanket, an’ then I was comf’table enough. Of coorse no Injun kud see the smoke arter night, an it would a tuk sharp eyes to have sighted the fire, I reckon.