“D’ye know,” said Redhand, removing his pipe for a few minutes and blowing aside the heavy wreaths of tobacco smoke that seemed unwilling to ascend and dissipate themselves—“d’ye know, now that this trip’s over, I’m inclined to think it’s about the roughest one I’ve had for many a year? An’ it’s a cur’ous fact, that the rougher a trip is the more I like it.”
Bertram, who was (as a matter of course) sketching, turned over a few leaves and made a note of the observation.
“I guess it was pretty much of a meddlin’ jolly one,” said Big Waller, smoking enthusiastically, and with an expression of intense satisfaction on his weather-beaten countenance.
“An’ profitable,” observed Bounce gravely.
“Ah! oui, ver’ prof’table,” echoed Gibault. “Dat is de main ting. We have git plenty skins, an’ have bring hom’ our own skins, w’ich I was not moche sure of one or two times.”
“True,” said Bounce; “that’s wot we’ve got for to be thankful for. Skins is skins; but the skin of a human ain’t to be put in the balance wi’ the skin o’ a beaver, d’ye see?”
Bounce glanced at Hawkswing as he spoke, but the Indian only looked stolid and smoked solemnly.
“Yes,” he continued, “a whole skin’s better nor a broken one, an’ it’s well to bring back a whole one, though I’m not a-goin’ for to deny that there’s some advantage in bringing back other sorts o’ skins too, d’ye see? w’ich goes for to prove the true feelosophy of the fact, d’ye see?—”
Bounce paused, in the midst of his mental energy, to take a parenthetic whiff. His thoughts, however, seemed too deep for utterance, for he subsided quietly into a state of silent fumigation.
“What a splendidly picturesque scene!” exclaimed Bertram, pushing back his brigandish hat in order the better to get a view, at arm’s length, of his sketch and compare it with the original.