“Vid dat necklace,” replied Gibault, sighing again heavily.
“Oh! if that’s all, ye don’t need to look so blue, for it’s yer own by rights,” said Bounce. “I’m jist doin’ it up for ye.”
“Non; it cannot be mine,” returned Gibault.
“How so?” inquired Waller, “ye ’arned it, didn’t ye? Drew first blood I calc’late.”
“Non, I not draw de fuss blood. Mais, I vill hab chance again no doubt. Monsieur Bertram he drew fuss blood.”
“Ho, he!” cried Waller in surprise. “You didn’t tell us that before. Come, I’m glad on’t.”
“What!” exclaimed Bertram, “the necklace mine? there must be some mistake. I certainly fired my pistol at the bear, but it seemed to have had no effect whatever.”
“Gibault,” said Bounce emphatically, “did you fire at all?”
“Non, pour certain, cause de gun he not go off.”
“Then,” continued Bounce, handing the much-coveted necklace to Bertram, “the thing b’longs to you, sir, for that bar comed up wounded, an’ as he couldn’t ha’ wounded hisself, you must ha’ done it—there.”