Jan slid down from the tree, walked slowly to the place where Jules sat on his horse, picked him off solemnly, and cast him down like an untimely fig. The whole thing was done in such a deliberate manner that Ben did not suppose any such action intended, and before he had time to think, the Frenchman was down, and Jan’s big foot placed upon his breast. “What do ye mean?” shouted Ben. “Let him up, ye durned fool.” “Vell, vat makes him laff at me ven I pe chase py a puffalo?” said Jan. “I dink I dells him somet’ings. Lie dere vile I spoke mit you du or drie dimes.” “Take your foot from my breast!” said Jules, fiercely. “You cursed Dutchman, I will kill you. Let me up!” “You keep still little dimes,” answered Jan, coolly. “I dinks ven a mans laff at anuder, he mus’ have a shance to ask him vy he does it. Dat ish vat I dinks.” “Jan,” cried Ben, sternly. “Vat you expects?” “Let him up.” Jan removed his foot from the breast of the prostrate man and Jules rose to his feet. His first movement was to draw a knife, and rush at the immovable figure of the Dutchman. So sudden was the attack that nothing on the part of the assailed party could have saved him, but Ben suddenly threw up his rifle, separating them. So strong was his arm, that while holding the rifle extended, the rush of the Frenchman, excited though he was, could not bend it in the least. “Keep back!” said Ben, “or I’ll be into you with somethin’ sharper than a toothpick. What do ye want?” “I’ll have his heart’s blood!” hissed Jules. “He has insulted me.” “Come, it’s about an even thing. You made game of him, ye know. Then don’t make any durned fuss about it. I ain’t goin’ to stand it. Shake hands. Jan didn’t mean any thing.” “I vas mat,” said Jan. “I’m sorry I did it now. Put vat makes him laff at me?” “Thar; he apologized. He says he’s sorry. He kain’t say no fairer then that, kin he? Shake hands, Jule. Durn me ef I’m goin’ to hev a man with me thet holds a grudge like thet thar. _Shake hands!_” “He needn’t aff he don’t vants to,” added Jan. “I ain’t ’fraid of him anyway. Put I pe villing to make vrents.” Jules sullenly extended his hand. “I’d never do it if it was not for Ben,” he said. “He’s been kind to me. But if you ever lay a hand on me again I will kill you.” “No growlin’,” said Ben. “Durn it, kain’t a man know enough to make up with a feller and hev no back talk? Come; hyar’s lots of work. We’ve got to cut up these buffler. Use yer knife on thet, not on a human.” “Shall we cut up the old one here?” said Jules, throwing off the appearance of anger, although his cheeks glowed yet. “No. I reckon we won’t want any of him but the hump and marrer-bones. It’s jest as Jan says. It’s his buffler anyhow.” “Mine!” ejaculated Jan. “Yes, yours. Didn’t ye bring him hyar yerself, say? Of course he’s yer own. I’ll show ye how to git his hump. Durn me ef ye don’t take up the business of takin’ the pelt off a critter right handy.” “I vas a _putcher_,” said Jan.