“It ur, unless they got overtuk in the kenyon; an I don’t think it. They understan’ that crik too well.”
The probability of Dacoma’s band soon joining those of the head chief was apparent to all, and cast a shadow of despondency over every face. They were, no doubt, still in pursuit of us, and would soon arrive on the ground.
“Now, cap,” continued the trapper, “I’ve gi’n ye my notion o’ things, if so be we’re boun’ to fight; but I have my behopes we kin get back the weemen ’ithout wastin’ our gun-fodder.”
“How? how?” eagerly inquired the chief and others.
“Why, jest this a-way,” replied the trapper, almost irritating me with the prolixity of his style. “’Ee see them Injuns on t’other side o’ the gulley?”
“Yes, yes,” hastily replied Seguin.
“Wal; ’ee see these hyur?” and the speaker pointed to our captives.
“Yes, yes!”
“Wal; ’ee see them over yander, though thur hides be a coppery colour, has feelin’s for thur childer like white Christyuns. They eat ’em by times, that’s true; but thur’s a releegius raison for that, not many hyur understands, I reckin.”
“And what would you have us do?”