“It was many weary miles from this, and we were footsore and weary before we came so far. We reached the entrance to this place and came in to find a secure asylum for the night. As we passed on I thought I heard footsteps following us and told Bentley. He had heard them, too, and was uneasy. We kept on our course until we reached the place where you found us, and where Bentley determined to pass the night. It might have been an hour after, and he was gathering some sticks with which to make a little fire, for I was cold and wet, when that terrible creature appeared on the rocks overhead, uttering its fearful cry. If I live to be old and gray, that horrible vision will never leave me. I see it plainly now.” “B’ar up, miss; don’t be afraid. Yer safe enough now,” said Ben. “Put vat if dat tuyvel vas to coom pack ag’in, Penn?” said Jan, looking uneasily over his shoulder. “I pees afraid mit him now.” “He’d better not. Let him try it on ef he wants to git his gruel. I’m ekal to any low-lived squab of thing like that, I reckon. Don’t you be afraid, miss. Thar ain’t no danger.” “It is childish in me to fear now,” she said, “when I have such able protectors. There, the feeling is gone; I put implicit confidence in you.” “Thet’s right. You might do wuss then to trust old Ben Miffin. That’s my name, miss. Trapper Ben, they call me sometimes. This is Jules Damand. He’ll stand by you, an’ cook all the vittles. This is Jan Schneider. He ain’t much to look at, but he killed a grizzly a little while ago, with that weepon he calls a roer. Don’t it roar when it goes off? I guess not!” “It ish goot gun,” said Jan. “Don’t you make fun off me now, Penn Miffin.” “Who’s makin’ fun of ye? I ain’t. I’m tellin’ the lady you’re goin’ to stand by her, and shoot that durned critter ef it comes back here.” “Do you know what that thing could be called, sir?” said the girl; “it surely can not be a man.” “Don’t say sir to me. I’m old Ben Miffin. Please to call me by my name.” “If you like it?” “You bet I like it. I ain’t ashamed of my handle, not a bit. It’s a good one, an’ I cum by it honest--the way I cum by all my traps. I fight fa’r for every thing, even with a durned low-lived swab of a Hudson Bay man, an’ anybody knows they ain’t human. Ye asked me what that critter was. I tell ye fa’r, I don’t know. I’ve seen it onc’t before. Some of the boys hez seen it too, an’ they don’t know. It’s a quar sort of critter. Ef I hed my say about it, I sh’u’d think it war half man an’ half wolf. It’s mean enough.” “It does not talk; but you noticed that it was clothed in skins.” “I seen that. It’s a quar critter, I must say. The boys call it the Mountain Devil. It’s a good name. It’s lucky for the thing that I fired in a hurry; and then the youngster was so much in the way I dassen’t fire at any thing but the arm. I hit that.” “It saved my life,” said young Morris. “I had no strength to ward off another blow; I felt that my time had come.”