"I thought as much. A greater thief and villain does not disgrace the
prairies. He's the man that took yer horses; sich a fellow as that
never goes about alone; he's always got a tail following him as black as
himself. But I'll see if we can't pay the rascal off in his own coin."
"How so?" inquired Bertram. "He must be far from this spot."
"Not so far as you think. I know his haunts, and could take you to them
in a few days overland; but it'll take longer by the river, and we can't
quit our canoe just now."
"But, good friend," said Bertram quietly, "I cannot presume on your
hospitality so far as to expect you to carry me along with you for the
purpose of redressing my wrongs."
"Make your mind easy on that pint," returned Redhand; "we'll talk of it
in the mornin'."
While the old trapper and the artist were conversing, Bounce had busied
himself in stringing the claws of the grisly bear on a strip of
deerskin, for the purpose of making a collar. A necklace of this
description is very highly prized among Indians, especially when the
claws are large.
While it was being made, Gibault sighed so deeply once or twice, that
March suggested he must be in love.
"So I is," sighed Gibault.
"That's interesting," remarked March; "who with?"
"Ay, that's it," said Bounce; "out with her name, lad. No one ought
never to be ashamed o' bein' in love. It's a glorious state o' mind an'
body as a feller should gratilate hisself on havin'. Who be ye in love
wi', lad?"
"Vid dat necklace," replied Gibault, sighing again heavily.
"Oh! if that's all, ye don't need to look so blue, for it's yer own by
rights," said Bounce. "I'm jist doin' it up for ye."
"Non; it cannot be mine," returned Gibault.
"How so?" inquired Waller, "ye 'arned it, didn't ye? Drew first blood I
calc'late."
"Non, I not draw de fuss blood. Mais, I vill hab chance again no doubt.
Monsieur Bertram he drew fuss blood."
"Ho, he!" cried Waller in surprise. "You didn't tell us that before.
Come, I'm glad on't."
"What!" exclaimed Bertram, "the necklace mine? there must be some
mistake. I certainly fired my pistol at the bear, but it seemed to have
had no effect whatever."
"Gibault," said Bounce emphatically, "did you fire _at all_?"
"Non, pour certain, cause de gun he not go off."
"Then," continued Bounce, handing the much-coveted necklace to Bertram,
"the thing b'longs to you, sir, for that bar comed up wounded, an' as he
couldn't ha' wounded hisself, _you_ must ha' done it--there."
The young man positively refused for some time to accept of the
necklace, saying, that as Gibault had tracked and discovered the bear,
it certainly belonged to him; but Gibault as positively affirmed that he
would not disgrace himself by wearing what belonged rightfully to
another man; and as the other trappers confirmed what their comrade
said, Bertram was at last fain to accept of a trophy which, to say
truth, he was in his heart most anxious to possess.
At the close of this amicable dispute, each man rolled himself in his
blanket and lay down to sleep with his feet to the fire. Being in a
part of the country where there were very few Indians, and these few on
pretty good terms with the white trappers, no watch was set. Bertram
lay down with his tattered cloak around him, and, taking a little book
from his pocket, read it, or appeared to read it, till he fell asleep--
on observing which, March Marston crept noiselessly to his side, and,
lying gently down beside him, covered him with a portion of his own
blanket. Ere long the camp was buried in repose.