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Updated: May 16, 2025
At first I thought the Natter-list one o' the cruellest beggars as iver went on two long legs, for he used to go about everywhere pokin' pins through all the beetles, and flies, an' creepin' things he could sot eyes on, an' stuck them in a box; but he told me he comed here a-purpose to git as many o' them as he could; so says I, `If that's it, I'll fill yer box in no time.
"`It's true, sir, as true as yer standin' there. "Well, would ye believe it; he turned that Natter-list did as sick as a dog on the spot wot he wos standin' on, an' didn't taste meat again for three days!"
"He laughed when I said this, an' told me he wos collectin' them to take home to be looked at. But that's not wot I was goin' to tell ye about him," continued Joe; "I wos goin' to tell ye how we made him eat horseflesh. He carried a revolver, too, this natter-list did, to load wi' shot as small as dust a'most, an' shoot little birds with. I've seed him miss birds only three feet away with it.
Wolves attack the horses, and Cameron circumvents the wolves A bear-hunt, in which Henri shines conspicuous Joe and the "Natter-list" An alarm A surprise and a capture. We must now return to the camp where Walter Cameron still guarded the goods, and the men pursued their trapping avocations.
"'Steaks an' marrow-bones, says Martin." "'Capital! says he. 'I'm so hungry." "So he fell to work like a wolf. I niver seed a man pitch into anything like as that natter-list did into that horseflesh." "'These are first-rate marrow-bones, says he, squintin' with one eye down the shin-bone o' the hind leg to see if it was quite empty."
But that very day Martin got a shot at a wild horse an' killed it. The natter-list was down in the bed o' a creek at the time gropin' for creepers, an' he didn't see it. "'He'll niver eat it, says Martin. "'That's true, says I. "'Let's tell him it's a buffalo, says he. "'That would be tellin' a lie, says I. "So we stood lookin' at each other, not knowin' what to do.
"But that's not what I wos goin' to tell ye yet. We comed to a part o' the plains where we wos well-nigh starved for want o' game, an' the Natter-list got so thin that ye could a-most see through him, so I offered to kill my horse, an' cut it up for meat; but you niver saw sich a face he made. `I'd rather die first, says he, `than eat it; so we didn't kill it.
At first I thought the natter-list one o' the cruellest beggars as iver went on two long legs, for he used to go about everywhere pokin' pins through all the beetles an' flies an' creepin' things he could sot eyes on, an' stuck them in a box. But he told me he comed here a-purpose to git as many o' them as he could; so says I, 'If that's it, I'll fill yer box in no time.
But that very day Martin got a shot at a wild horse and killed it. The Natter-list was down in the bed o' a creek at the time gropin' for creepers, an' he didn't see it. "`He'll niver eat it, says Martin. "`That's true, says I. "`Let's tell him it's a buffalo, says he. "`That would be tellin' a lie, says I. "So we stood lookin' at each other, not knowin' what to do.
Well, soon after, we shot a buffalo bull, so when it fell, off he jumps from his horse an runs up to it. So did I, for I wasn't sure the beast was dead, an' I had jist got up when it rose an' rushed at the Natter-list.
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