“That’s the beauty of my style. He kain’t resist the line of argyment I hev adopted. He appreciates its force, I allow. Don’t ye see?” “Yaw. Kill him unt den talks mit him. Dat ish goot vay! I does him myself, pymepye, ven I kills an Injun.” “I reckon ye’ll hev a chaince, one of these days. What ar’ they prowlin’ roun’ thet beaver-dam fur? The’r’ after my traps, the sneakin’ varmints. It’ll bother ’em some to git ’em, anyhow; I’m ruther good at hidin’ traps. But I’ll mark every Injun in the party, an’ one of these yer days we’ll hev a settlement. Keep out of sight. Ef they see us, they’ll never rest tell they git us. Lay low!” “All right, Penn. I dakes care. I no likes to fight mit dem unless I have to; put vat I dinks ish dis: Aff’n’ man ash vas vant to lif so long vat he can, vill not vite vor his life, ven he _haf_ to do it, den he vas vun pig vool. I not like to vite. I pees not a vitin’ character. Put off dey cooms, I kills all of dem vat I _can_. Dat ish drue vat I dells you.” “Thet’s the right kind of talk, old man,” said Ben. “I like thet. It sounds like a man. Don’t rush into danger, but don’t _dodge_ it. Thet’s the way to talk it. Thet’s the way to be sensible. Kin ye see any thing of Jule yit?” “I don’t see him noveres,” replied Jan. “I kain’t think whar he’s hid, or what them buggers ar’ pokin’ round thet dam fer. He kain’t be thar, kin he? Ain’t one of them Injuns goin’ into the water?” “More ash vun of ’em,” said Jan. “More ash a tozen, I dinks.” It was true. A number of the Indians had gone into the shallow stream, and were wading toward the dam, approaching the beaver-hut nearest the shore. One of them approached the opening and climbed up on the dam. Another followed, and they commenced taking off the top of the hut. Beavers do their work well, and it was the work of some moments. At last the top was removed, and they stooped together and dragged something out. Was it a beaver? No; but Jules Damand, who had ensconced himself in the hut as a hiding-place. They passed on to the next hut, and in like manner dragged out Bentley Morris, who had taken refuge there. It was with the deepest sorrow that the party on the mountain saw their ill-fated companions dragged from their places of refuge, amid the exultant yells of the savages, and conducted to the shore. They made no struggle; indeed, any resistance would have been useless against such a force. “They are taken. Oh, gracious heaven, they are taken. What will be their fate?” cried Millicent. “I kain’t tell,” said Ben. “They may kill ’em, but I don’t think it. Jule has got the wust chance, fer he tried to kill the boy.” “Poor Shule,” said Jan. “I pees sorry I gits mat mit him unt wrastle him town on his pack.” “The least they kin hope fer is to be pris’ners of the Blackfeet fer years. Poor lads. I’d give anything to set ’em free. But, what kin I do; _what_ kin I do?”