“It’s a grand country! D’ye see the little clear spot yonder, on the river bank, with the aspen grove behind it, an’ the run of prairie on the right, an’ the little lake not a gun-shot off on the left? That’s the spot I’ve sometimes thought of locatin’ on when my gun begins to feel too heavy. There’ll be cities there some day. Bricks and mortar and stone ’ll change its face—an’ cornfields, an’— but not in our day, lad, not in our day. The redskins and the bears ’ll hold it as long as we’re above ground. Yes, I’d like to settle down there.”
“Come, come, Redhand,” said Bounce, “this sort o’ thing ’ll never do. Why, you’re as hale and hearty as the best on us. Wot on ’arth makes you talk of settlin’ down in that there fashion?”
“Ha!” exclaimed Waller energetically, “I guess if ye goes on in that style ye’ll turn into a riglar hiplecondrik—ain’t that the word, Bounce? I heer’d the minister say as it was the wust kind o’ the blues. What’s your opinion o’ settlin’ down, Hawkswing?”
To this question the Indian gravely replied in his own language (with which the trappers were well acquainted), that, not having the remotest idea of what they were talking about, he entertained no opinion in regard to it whatever.
“Well, wotiver others may hold,” remarked Bounce emphatically, “I’m strong agin’ settlin’ down nowhar’.”
“So am I, out an’ out,” said Waller.
“Dat be plain to the naked eye,” observed Gibault, coming up at the moment. “Surement you have settle down here for ever. Do you s’pose, mes garçons, dat de canoe will carry hisself over de portage? Voilà! vat is dat?”
Gibault pointed to the footprint of the grisly bear, as he spoke.
“It’s a bar,” remarked Bounce quietly.
“Caleb,” added Waller, giving the name frequently applied to the grisly bear by western hunters. “I calc’late it’s nothin’ new to see Caleb’s fut in the mud.”