“Chut, man! yur tongue wags like a beaver’s tail in flood-time.”
“Can you suggest any way in which it can be done, Rube? I confess I see none.”
As Seguin made this appeal, all eyes were turned upon the trapper.
“Why, cap, I kin surgest my own notion o’ the thing. It may be right, an’ it mayn’t be right; but if it wur follered out, there’ll be neither ’Pash nor Navagh that’ll smell where we go for a week. If they diz, ’ee may cut my ears off.”
This was a favourite joke with Rube, and the hunters only laughed. Seguin himself could not restrain a smile, as he requested the speaker to proceed.
“Fust an’ fo’most, then,” said Rube, “thur not a-gwine to come arter that nigger in less than two days.”
“How can you tell that?”
“This way: ’Ee see he’s only second chief, an’ they kin go on well enough ’ithout him. But that ain’t it. The Injun forgot his bow; white at that. Now ’ee all knows as well as this child, that that’s a big disgrace in the eyes o’ Injuns.”
“You’re right about that, hoss,” remarked one.
“Wal, so the ole ’coon thinks. Now, ’ee see, it’s as plain as Pike’s Peak that he kim away back ’ithout tellin’ any o’ the rest a syllabub about it. He’d not let ’em know if he kud help it.”