And the old trapper went off into another fit of chuckling.
“What are ye laughin’ at now, Rube?” asked one of his comrades.
“He! he! he! What am I larfin’ at? He! he! he! Ho! ho! That ur the crisp o’ the joke. He! he! he! What am I larfin’ at?”
“Yes; tell us, man!”
“It are this then I’m larfin’ at,” replied Rube, sobering down a little, “I wa’n’t at Bent’s three days when who do ’ee think shed kum to the Fort?”
“Who? Maybe the Rapahoes!”
“Them same Injuns; an’ the very niggurs as set me afoot. They kum to the Fort to trade wi’ Bill, an’ thur I sees both my old mar an’ rifle!”
“You got them back then?”
“That wur likely. Thur wur a sight o’ mountainy men thur, at the time, that wa’n’t the fellurs to see this child put down on the parairar for nuthin’. Yander’s the critter!” and Rube pointed to the old mare. “The rifle I gin to Bill, an’ kep Tar-guts instead, seeing she wur a better gun.”
“So you got square with the Rapahoes?”