little ’un,” said Dick, addressing himself to Archie, and pointing to the packs which the Indians had thrown down, “look in them ar bundles an’ see if you can find your traps.”
Archie accordingly handed his gun to his cousin, and, kneeling down in the snow, opened one of the packs, when the first thing he discovered was his missing property. He arose slowly to his feet, and surveying the Indian to whom the pack belonged, with a comical expression on his face, said:
“You’re a grand rascal. I’ve a good notion to take the ramrod out of my gun and give you a good trouncing.”
The Indian was a man fully as large as Dick, very powerfully built, and muscular; while Archie was a little, “spindle-shanked” fellow, very small for his age, and looked as though he were in danger of being carried away by the first gust of wind that passed. The former, after regarding the diminutive hunter for a moment, with an expression of contempt, drew himself up to his full hight, and ejaculated:
“Ugh! me big Injun.”
He, no doubt, considered it a gross insult that a person of Archie’s proportions should talk of “trouncing” him.
“Wal,” said the trapper, “we’re done with you, you painted niggers; travel on about your business; but I wouldn’t advise you to cross my trail, in these woods, this winter;” and Dick tapped his rifle in a very significant manner.
The savages raised their packs to their shoulders without making any reply, and walked off as though nothing had happened. As soon as they were out of sight, Archie packed up his traps, and the hunters turned their faces homeward.
CHAPTER IV
THE “OLE SETTLER”
IT was dark before they reached the cabin, but they found a good supper waiting for them. After they had eaten heartily, they drew their chairs up around the fireplace, and Uncle Joe inquired:
“Wal, youngsters, how do you like Injun-huntin’?”
“I don’t believe we like it well enough to try it again,” said Harry. “I never was so completely tired out in my life.”
“O, that wasn’t nothin’ at all,” said Dick. “Such Injun-huntin’ as that we had to-day is fun. What would you have thought if we had follered them thieves for a week afore we found ’em? But, I must say, that you youngsters done very well. I’ll own up, that when we started, I thought I would see what sort o’ stuff you wur made of; an’ I thought I’d stretch your legs for you in a way that would make you give in. But you fellers are purty good shakes at runnin’, for boys of your age. But this reminds me o’ a scrape I onct had near the Colorado River. Do yer see this? If you can ketch as many grizzly bars in your lifetime as this trap has, you are smarter nor I think you are. This is what I call the ‘Ole Settler!’”
And, as the trapper spoke, he raised from the floor the object of his admiration, and held it up to the view of the boys. It was an ordinary bear-trap, with double springs, and huge jaws, which were armed with long, sharp teeth. It had received a thorough rubbing and greasing, and shone in the fire-light like silver; but, after all, there was nothing uncommon in its appearance. There were plenty of traps in the cabin that were quite as well made, and could, probably, do quite as much execution. In the trapper’s mind, however, the “Ole Settler” was evidently associated with some exciting event.
“The reason why I call this trap the ‘Ole Settler’” continued Dick, “is, ’cause it has been in the service so long. My gran’father bought it, when he war only a boy, of a Mexikin trader, an’ he give two ten-dollar bar-skins for it. When he got too ole to trap, he give it to my father, an’ he give it to me. It has been stole from me a good many times; but I allers made out to get it back agin. Onct a yaller-hided Mexikin Greaser bagged it, an’ I didn’t set eyes on it for more ’n a year; but I knowed it in a minit when I did see it; an’, arter a little brush with the Greaser, I made him give it up. The last time I lost it war while I war trappin’ in Utah. It war stole from me by a Blackfoot Injun; and the way it happened war this:
“I allers had the name of bein’ able to bring into market jest as many an’ jest as fine furs as any trapper in the mountains. But I had a good many good trappers to go agin, and arter awhile my huntin’-grounds begun to give out; so, one summer, I packed my plunder, an’ moved to the west side of the mountains. I war right in the heart of the Pawnee region, the wust Injun country in the world; but I kalkerlated to get all my trappin’ done arly in the spring, an’ move out; ’cause as soon as the ice breaks up in the spring, the red-skins allers come round on a grand hunt, an’ I didn’t care to have the rascals near me. I never yet see the Injun that I war afeared of, but it’s mighty onpleasant to have them around; they go screechin’ through the woods, shootin’ at a feller, when he can’t see ’em, an’ steal his traps an’ other plunder in a mighty onfriendly way.
“Wal, in less than a week arter I got to my new quarters, I war settled. I had all my traps sot in the best places, an’ had mighty good luck. The streams war full of beaver, otter, an’ mink, an’ I used to have a fight with the grizzlies in the mountains every day. In this way the winter passed; an’ about the time that spring come, I had well-nigh trapped every thing in the valley. It war gettin’ about time for the Injuns to come round on their reg’lar hunts; so one mornin,’ arter a good breakfast on buffaler hump, I started out an’ begun to gather up my traps. A’most every one had some kind o’ game in it, an’ I soon got as big a load as I could wag under. So I started back for camp. I war goin’ along mighty keerless like, an’ wasn’t thinkin’ o’ nothin’, when all to onct I seed something that made me prick up my ears, an’ step a little lighter. I see that something had been passin’ through the bushes. You, in course, wouldn’t have noticed it, but I knowed in a minit that an Injun had been along; an’, arter lookin’ around a little, I found his track. It wasn’t a Pawnee; but, arter examinin’ the trail, I found that it war a Blackfoot. What one of them should be doin’ so far from home I didn’t know, but most likely he war layin’ around for scalps.
“‘Wal,’ thinks I, ‘Dick Lewis, you had better be lookin’ out for them traps o’ yourn;’ so I hid my spelter in the bushes, an’ started up toward the mountains. I had sot the Ole Settler the day before, to ketch a grizzly that had been botherin’ me a good deal, an’ I war afeared the Injun would come acrost it an’ bag it. I saw plenty of Injun signs all the way, but the tracks had all been made by the same feller. I could see, by the way the rascal had moved, that he knowed I war in the valley; for he took mighty good care to cover up his trail as much as possible. Arter a few minits’ walk, I come to the place where I had set the Ole Settler; but, just as I had expected, the trap war gone. The Blackfoot had been there afore me, an’ I knowed that if I wanted my trap, I must look for it; an’ I made up my mind that I did want it, an’ that I would have it, if I had to foller the Injun clar to his home. So I started arter him, an’, for a mile or so, the trail was toler’ble plain, an’ I got along first-rate. I made up my mind that if the thief got away from me he would have to be smarter nor I thought he war. But, at last, I come to where he had tuk to a swamp, an’ two or three times I come mighty nigh losin’ the trail. The swamp war full o’ logs, an’ the Injun had walked on them, an’, in course, he didn’t leave no trail. I follered him more ’n a mile by the marks on the bushes, an’ finally I couldn’t see a single sign. There war the print of one of his moccasins in the mud as plain as daylight; an’ there the trail ended. I couldn’t tell which way the rascal had gone. I looked around, examinin’ every bush an’ twig, but it war no use. Now, I s’pose you think I war beat at the Injun’s own game, don’t you? Wal, I wasn’t. In course, I couldn’t find the trail in the swamp; but I knowed which way the Blackfoot war goin’, an’ if I crossed the swamp, I knowed that I would find it on the other side. So I started out, an’ as it war gettin’
