There was need for the horsemen to show circumspection. And they did: silently skirting the cliff, and keeping behind the huge boulders, that, for long ages shed from its summit, strewed the plain at its base.
“Arter all, Ned,” said the old trapper, when they had ridden to a safe distance from the dreaded spot, “we needn’t ’a been so partickler. I reck’n, ’bout this time, thar ain’t a sober Injun upon the banks o’ Bijou. I hope ole Blackedder an’ his party, afore leavin’ the settlements, laid in a good supply o’ rot-gut—enuf to keep them skunks dead-drunk till we kin git back agin. Ef thet be the case, thar’ll be some chance o’ our chestisin’ ’em.”
A mental “amen” was the only response made by the young Irishman; who was too much occupied in thinking of Clara Blackadder’s danger, to reflect coolly on the means of rescuing her—even though it were certain she still lived.
Note 1. Vulpes velox. The swiftest of the foxes; called “Kit-fox,” by the fur-traders, on account of the skin being taken from the carcase whole, as with rabbit-skins—not split up the abdomen, as with the larger species.
Chapter Nine.
Saint Vrain’s.
One of the classical names associated with the “commerce of the prairies” is that of Saint Vrain. Ever since trapping became a trade, or at all events, since prairie-land, with its wonders, had grown to be a frequent, as well as interesting topic of conversation around the hearth-fires of the American people, the names of Bent, Saint Vrain, Bonneville, Robideau, Laramie, and Pierre Choteau, might often be heard upon the lips of men.