Part 16 (1/2)

”I'm not so sure o' that,” broke in Big Waller, casting a scowling glance on the savages as he surveyed a wound in his left arm, which, although not serious, was, from want of dressing, sufficiently painful; ”I calc'late it would serve them reptiles right if we was to whangskiver the whole on 'em as they lie.”

”I don't b'lieve,” retorted Bounce, ”that '_whangskiver_' is either English, Injun, French, or Yankee; but if it means _killin'_, you'll do nothing o' the sort. Here's what we'll do. We'll ketch as many horses as wos took from Mr Bertram's fellers, an' as many guns too (the same ones if we can lay hands on 'em), an' as much powder an' shot an' other things as that keg o' brandy is worth, an' then we'll bid the redskins good-bye without wakenin' of 'em up.”

”Goot,” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Gibault, pausing in his manipulation of the artist, ”now you can do!”

”Capital; thanks, I feel quite strong again.”

”I say, Gibault,” observed March ruefully, ”they've almost sawed through the skin o' my ankle. I've no left foot at all, as far as feelin'

goes.”

”Hah! me boy, 'tis well you have foot left, though you not feel left foot! Let me see.”

”That's it, Gibault, rub away; if your jokes were as good as your surgery you'd be too good, a long way, for the backwoods.”

By dint of chafing and rubbing and leaping and stamping, the whole party were soon restored to a serviceable condition, after which they set about active preparations for departure.

First, they ransacked the tents, where they discovered all the guns that had been taken from Bertram's party. These they tied up in a bundle, after each had secured one for his own use. Among them the artist found, to his intense delight, his own double-barrelled gun, the loss of which he had mourned most sincerely.

Next, they secured the horses, which, being hobbled, as we have said elsewhere, were easily caught. Then the powder-horns and shot-belts of Bertram's party were found, and, being full of ammunition, were slung across their shoulders forthwith. Among other things belonging to the same party were discovered a number of blankets, some tea and sugar, and a variety of other useful articles, besides several packs of furs; all of which were made up into portable bundles that could be easily carried at their saddle-bows. The supply of everything was so ample that it was not necessary to touch a single article belonging to the Indians.

This was a matter of much satisfaction to Redhand, who wished to show these unfortunate children of the wilderness that there were at least some white trappers who were actuated by different and kindlier feelings than many who sought their livelihood in those regions.

”Hullo! wot have we here?” cried Big Waller, who was poking inquisitively about among the tents, to the consternation of the poor Indian children who lay huddled up in their rabbit-skin blankets, trembling from head to foot, and expecting to be scalped forthwith--such of them, at least, as were old enough to expect anything. ”Here's your blunderbusses, I guess, mister.”

”What! my pistols,” cried Bertram, seizing his weapons with as much delight as if they had been really serviceable.

”Hah! ver' goot for play vid,” observed Gibault contemptuously.

”I say, here's something else,” said Bounce, picking up a rifle.

”Wah!” exclaimed Hawkswing, pointing to the weapon in surprise, and turning his eyes on Redhand.

”Wot! d'ye know who it b'long'd to?” inquired Bounce.

An expression of deep sorrow overspread Redhand's countenance. ”Ay,”

said he mournfully, ”I know it well. It belonged to young Blake.”

Glancing quickly up at a place where several scalps were hanging to a pole, he took one down, and, after gazing at it sadly for a few seconds, he added in a tone of deep melancholy: ”Poor, poor Blake! ye had a hearty spirit an' a kindly heart. Your huntin' days were soon over!”

”Was he a friend of yours?” inquired Bertram, affected by the old trapper's look and tone.

”Ay, ay, he was, he was,” said Redhand quickly, and with a sternness of manner that surprised his companions; ”come, lads, mount! mount! The redskins won't part with plunder without making an effort to get it back.”

”But, stop a bit, Redhand,” cried Bounce, detaining the old man, ”ye didn't use for to be so hot an' hasty. Where are we to go to? That's wot I want to know.”

”True,” observed Redhand in his old gentle tones, ”we've more horses than we need, and some furs to dispose of. There's a tradin' fort in the mountains, but it's a good bit from this.”

”What o' that?” said March Marston somewhat impetuously. ”Are we not armed and well mounted and strong, and have we not lots o' time before us?”

”Well said,” cried Bounce.