“Credit! fat is dat?”
“Honour and glory, lad, and the praises of them savages.”
“Ha! de praise? more probeebale de ill-vill of de rascale. I seed dem scowl at me not ver’ pritty.”
“That’s true, Henri, but sich as it is it’s all ye’ll git.”
“I vish,” remarked Henri after a pause—“I vish I could git de vampum belt de leetle chief had on. It vas superb. Fat place do vampums come from?”
“They’re shells—”
“Oui,” interrupted Henri. “I know fat de is. Dey is shells, and de Injuns tink dem goot monish; mais, I ask you fat place de come from.”
“They are thought to be gathered on the shores o’ the Pacific,” said Joe; “the Injuns on the west o’ the Rocky Mountains picks them up and exchanges them wi’ the fellows here-away for horses and skins—so I’m told.”
At this moment there was a wild cry of terror heard a short distance ahead of them. Rushing forward they observed an Indian woman flying frantically down the river’s bank towards the waterfall, a hundred yards above which an object was seen struggling in the water.
“’Tis her child,” cried Joe, as the mother’s frantic cry reached his ear. “It’ll be over the fall in a minute! Run, Dick, you’re quickest.”