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"For Oregon? Mon Dieu! But Jeem" he spread out his hands "Jeem he's dead, we'll think. We do not known. Now we know the gold news. Maybe-so we know why Jeem he's gone!" "Gone? When?" "Las' H'august-Settemb. H'all of an' at once he'll took the trail h'after the h'emigrant train las' year. He'll caught him h'on Fort Hall; we'll heard.
Right 'ere, at the foot of these steps, is where 'e 'urriedly buried them, h'after 'is men 'ad smothered them." The children stood gazing at the little window over the gateway, their eyes big with horror. It did not seem as though such terrible things could have been done there in that little room, into which the sun now poured through the tiny window.
All residents here knew Jim Bridger. He sought out the man in charge. "How, Bordeaux?" he began. "Whar's the bourgeois, Papin?" "Down river h'east h'after goods." The trader, hands on his little counter, nodded to his shelves. "Nada!" he said in his polyglot speech. "Hi'll not got a damned thing lef'. How many loads you'll got for your h'own post, Jeem?" "Eight wagons. Iron, flour and bacon."
'H'after'er, he said. 'Looks more as if she was h'after them wanting fourteen dresses at once. Dingee shewed his teeth from ear to ear. 'You bery wise man, Mas' Gotham! he said. 'Spect now you can tell a feller all about dese yere. And Dingee threw off the white paper which covered what he carried this time, and displayed to Gotham's astonished eyes a basket full of bouquets.
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