“Ollification,” suggested Waller modestly.
“Not at all,” retorted Bounce with much severity in his tone. “I wos goin’ to have said—transparientsy; but I’ll not say that now, seein’ it’s too feelosophical for the likes o’ you; but, as I wos sayin’, that bein’ the case, d’ye see? it’s quite plain that—”
Here Bounce, having got into depths unusually profound even for his speculative and philosophical turn of mind, sought refuge in a series of voluminous puffs, and wound up, finally, with an emphatic assertion that “there wos somethin’ wrong, an’ it wos o’ no manner o’ use to try to throw dust in his eyes, seein’ that his winkin’ powers wos sich as to enable him to keep it out, no matter how thick or fast it should come.”
“Ah, that’s yer sort! I calc’late you’re floored there, March,” said Waller gravely. “The fact is, boy, that it won’t do; you’ve got somethin’ in the background, that Mr Bertram talks sich a heap about. You ought to be fair an’ above-board with comrades, ye ought.”
“Oui,” added Gibault. “Of course, you have lived somewhere, an’ somehow, all dis time. It am not posseeble for live nowhere on noting.”
“Well, I tell you I have lived with a hunter, who treated me very well, and told me I’d find you here; having learned that, as I understand, from the Wild Man o’ the West himself.”
“Very true,” said Bounce; “but where does the hunter live?”
“In the mountains,” replied March.
“So does the Blackfeet, an’ the Peigans, an’ the Crows, an’ the foxes, an’ wolves, an’ grisly bars,” retorted Bounce dryly.
“I’ll tell ye what it is,” cried the exasperated March, “the curiosity of you fellers beats the squaws out an’ out. Now, I’ll be open with ye, an’ then ye must hold your tongues. This man that I’ve been stayin’ with is a very fine fellow, an’ a very wonderful fellow, an’ his name’s Dick—”