"But you called him down all right, Billy," grinned Tim Sladder.
"Sure I did! What's that, Springate—you think they stole Pardsley's furs?"
"I didn't say anything to you, Musgrove," said Nat, annoyed that an unguarded remark had been overheard.
"I hearn you, though, that I did. Say, you don't know nothing about it. No, sir." Billy Musgrove leaned back on an empty soap box. "I ain't a-sayin' I like 'em," he went on, looking down on the floor, and slowly twirling his thumbs, "an' I don't know nothing about 'em, but—"
"I reckon we'll never l'arn who robbed me," broke in Yardsley.
"An' I don't keer," continued Billy Musgrove, calmly.
"An' I was going ter say," interposed the trapper, "that now the cap'n an' his mate's got back safely, I ain't a-kickin'."
"See here, Wardsley, what makes you call Scummers 'cap'n'?" asked Musgrove, with a grin and a wink. "D'ye think he's boss? If yer do, ask that long-legged chap."
"You make me think of a purp in a mud puddle—always stirring up things," remarked Hackett, half angrily. "Don't get too gay. I won't stand for it—no, sir. Ask me pal, Nat," and he mimicked Billy's voice so well that the boys fairly exploded with laughter.
"Want to go over with us to-morrow night, and see 'Piper' and the rest, Sladder?" asked Nat, when quiet was restored.