For several minutes not a word was said. The catastrophe had been so overwhelming and the wreck of Bill's hopes so complete that it made speech on his part impossible. The Trapper, from a fine sense of feeling and regard for his companion, remained silent, and the dogs, uncertain as to what was expected of them, kept their places in the snow. At last the old man struggled to his feet and silently started toward the cabin. Wild Bill followed in equal silence, and the dogs as mutely brought up the rear. The depressed, not to say woe-begone, appearance of the singular procession certainly had in it, in the fullest measure, all the elements of humor. In this suggestive manner the column filed into the cabin. The dogs stole softly to their accustomed places, Wild Bill dropped into a chair, and the Trapper addressed himself mechanically to some domestic concerns. At last the silence became oppressive. Wild Bill turned in his chair, and, facing the Trapper, said:—
"It's too devilish bad!"
"Ef ye was in council, ginerals or privits, ye'd carry every vote with ye on that statement, Bill," said the Trapper with deliberation.
"Do you think there is any chance, old man?" queried Bill, earnestly.
"Not on the 'arth, Bill," answered the Trapper. "Ye see," he continued, "the snow wasn't so deep on my side the trail and I had my eye on them pigs afore ye got yer head above the drift, and I noted the rate of their movin'. They was goin' mighty fast, Bill, mighty fast. Ye must take into account that they had the slope in their favor and sartin experiences behind. I've sighted on a good many things that was gifted in runnin' and flyin', and I never kept a bullit in the barrel when I wanted feather, fur, or meat, because of the swiftness of the motion, but ef I had ben standin' ten rods from that trail and loved the meat like a settler, I wouldn't have wasted powder or lead on them pigs, Bill." And the two men, looking into each other's faces, laughed like boys.
"Where do you think they'll fetch up, John Norton?" queried Bill, at last.
"They won't fetch up," replied the Trapper, wiping his eyes, "leastwise not this year. Henry has told me that it is twenty-four thousand miles around the 'arth, and it looked to me as ef them pigs had started out to sarcumnavigate it, and I conceit it'll be about a month afore they will come through this clearin' agin. I may be a little amiss in my calkerlatin', but a day more or less won't make any difference with you and me, nor with the pigs, either, Bill. They may be a trifle leaner when they pass the cabin next time, but their gait will be jest the same, as I conceit." And after a moment, he asked, sympathetically:—
"How far did ye sled them pigs, Bill?"
"Forty mile," answered Bill, dejectedly.
"It's a goodly distance, considerin' the natur' of the animils," replied the Trapper, "and ye must have been tempted to onload the sled more'n once, Bill."