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Updated: June 6, 2025
Had this supposed recorder of facts been of an erratic nature, given to wander from anecdote to description, and vice versa, he would perhaps have told, in a parenthetical sort of way, how that, during these three weeks, the trappers enjoyed uninterrupted fine weather; how the artist sketched so indefatigably that he at last filled his book to overflowing and had to turn it upside down, begin at the end, and sketch on the backs of his previous drawings; how Big Waller and Black Gibault became inseparable friends and sang duets together when at full gallop, the latter shrieking like a wild-cat, the former roaring like a buffalo bull; how March Marston became madder than ever, and infected his little steed with the same disease, so that the two together formed a species of insane compound that caused Redhand and Bounce to give vent to many a low chuckle and many a deep sagacious remark, and induced Hawkswing to gaze at it the compound in grave astonishment.
He would have told not only the general fact that bears, and elks, and antelopes, and prairie dogs, and wolves, and buffaloes, were seen in great numbers continually, and were shot in abundance, but he would have recorded that Bertram did, on one occasion, in the height of his enthusiastic daring, give a shout and draw one of his blunderbuss-pistols, on observing a grisly bear at a short distance ahead of him; that he dashed his heels violently against the sides of his remarkable horse; that the said horse did toss his head, shake his bottle-brush, and rush full tilt towards the bear until he caught sight of it, when he turned off at a sharp angle, leaving Bertram on the plain at the mercy of the bear; that Bruin, who was in nowise alarmed, observing his condition, came to see what was the matter with him; and that he, Mr Bertram, would certainly have fallen a victim to his own headstrong courage on the one hand, and to the bear's known tendency to rend human beings on the other, had not March come up at that moment and shot it through the heart, while Redhand shot it through the brain.
"That's sooner said than done," remarked Redhand quietly, "for there's another portage between us and Caleb."
"The thief," said he in a tone that was scarcely audible, "has heard us; I see by his face that he suspects he has heard something, and he knows that it was not the falling of a leaf. If we break a twig now we're done for." Redhand meant this to be a salutary caution to his companion, which would ensure a noiseless retreat.
"No need for that," replied Redhand, "they're used to all kinds o' visitors friends as well as foes. I fear, however, from the haste they show in closing their gate, that they ain't on good terms with the Injuns." "The red-men and the pale-faces are at war," said Hawkswing. "Ay, you're used to the signs, no doubt," returned Redhand, "for you've lived here once upon a time, I b'lieve."
Redhand, he vill begin vid de thomb, et so on till it come to me, and I vill cot hoff mine leetle finger. Each vill devour the finger of de oder, an' so've shall have von dinner vidout committing mordor ha! vat say you?"
On reaching the summit of the gravelly ridge, Redhand looked along it with an earnest, searching gaze. "Wot's ado now?" inquired Bounce. "There ought to be prairie-hens here," replied the other. "Oh! do stand still, just as you are, men!" cried Bertram enthusiastically, flopping down on a stone and drawing forth his sketch-book, "you'll make such a capital foreground."
He brought forward his gun as he spoke, and examined the priming. "I b'lieve he's an evil spirit, I do," said Bounce; "wot a pace!" "More like to de Wild Man of de Vest," observed Gibault. "Think you so?" whispered Bertram in an anxious tone, with an involuntary motion of his hand to the pouch in which lay that marvellous sketch-book of his. "Think it's him?" said Redhand to Hawkswing.
The others followed his example, with the exception of Redhand, who remained standing, and of Bertram, who quickly opened his sketch-book, that being the first opportunity he had enjoyed during the day of making an entry therein. "Right," exclaimed Bounce. "It's allers more feelosophical to sot than to stand also more ekornomical, 'cause it saves yer moccasins. Go on with yer story, old man."
Here another halt was made, and here it was agreed that Redhand should advance alone, near enough to ascertain whether the Indians, whose camp they were approaching, were actually the scamps who had robbed Bertram of his horses. The old trapper was about to set forward when Bertram stopped him.
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