Did it not contain that which was a mine of wealth to the “mounseer?” The Frenchman was right in guarding the case closely.
Already he saw in his mind the astonishment and joy of the renowned professors, whose equal he was to become, and the chagrin and rage of his hated rival, when he appeared once more in Paris, bringing the precious and long-sought-for herb.
While the Frenchman was sitting at the foot of a tree, doting upon his treasure, the others were lounging around the fire.
All at once a thought struck Chauncy, and he turned to the guide who lay near the fire smoking his pipe with evident relish.
“Ralph,” said he, “I’ve a favor to ask of you. My father told me that you was called the Hunter Hercules by the Indians and hunters, but refused to tell me the story. He told me to ask you to give it, and I do so now. Come, toe the mark, old boy, and begin.”
“Wal, boy, I might az well come to the scratch, I see, for ye’re bound to hev it out o’ me, an’ az it ain’t a very big yarn, though a true one. The kurnel, or major, I forget which he is now, boy, but I mean yer daddy, always said that the name was very appropriate, an’ I must acknowledge myself that I am some on the lift, in fact I never seen my equal. Wait till I get in a fight, an’ then I’ll show ye how I came to git the name. But ye want to know how I got the name on me first. Wal, then, I lay myself out to it an’ begin.
“Ye see I haven’t always been a hunter an’ a trapper, a guide an’ an army scout. I used to be a merchant once, and was pretty well off, but a blarsted feller az I took in az a pardner, he run off wid every thing he c’u’d lay hands on, an’ left me ter pay the debts, an’ to do this I had to sell every thing.
“Seein’ az a feller widout money couldn’t get on very well in the city, I started for the prairies, an’ for the last twenty years I have been out West. I made a heap o’ money at the gold mines in California, an’ I might go to the East now if I wanted, an’ live like a gentleman. But to go on wid my yarn.
“Ye see, I jined teams wid an old hunter, an’ for a cupple o’ years we roamed over the prairies, a-huntin’, trappin’ an’ doin’ a little o’ Injin-fightin’.
“My chum, a feller named Buck Rawson, hed never seen me in a hand-to-hand fight, an’ so he didn’t think I was much.