“Wal, as that little gal has _seed_ Nat, of course he’s kickin’. Bless her soul! I’d like to see her sweet face, but I s’pose the brigade can’t spare me just now. Jarsey, I’ve my s’picions that that other sperit is somewhere out toward Oregon, ’mong a tribe of redskins. I’ve had my s’picions I say, but I’ll say nothin’ more now ’cept to kind of hint I may take a tramp out in them parts some day to see ef thar be signs of her.” “I sincerely hope that such may be the case, although I cannot be as sanguine as you are. Should you rescue her, the debt of gratitude--” “There! that’ll do, ogh!” interrupted Biddon, imperatively. “Such things go agin my stummick, and I don’t want to hear ’em. As you’re on the track of Nat, _go_, fur he may be somewhar yit, in spite of the fears I have that he isn’t, arter all.” “Rest assured I shall leave no stone unturned. I shall seek him at once.” “And when you finds him, jest tell him old Bill Biddon is about, and ready to hunt savages with him any time, ef he don’t git behind me when shootin’ time comes. Ogh! ogh!” and the trapper enjoyed his joke merrily. He stopped suddenly and looked at the brigade. A few moments more and they would be under way. “Wal, Jarsey, talkin’ time’s gittin’ mighty short. I’d like to talk longer, but can’t do it this time. Hope we’ll have a time down in the States ’fore long.” “I sincerely trust we shall,” I answered, unwilling to turn away from the hopeful picture which he was drawing for himself. “And we’ll have Nat ’long with us,” he added. “Of course, for I am sure he would not willingly miss an opportunity of seeing his old friend again. Of course, Biddon, we shall meet, if not in this world, I hope in the next.” “P’r’aps so, though I can’t tell till we gits there. Don’t know much ’bout them matters, ogh!” At this moment the voice of the steersman was heard, ordering the men to their places. Biddon turned, took a step, then halted and faced me. “Good-by, Jarsey.” He extended his hand, but ere I could take it it was hastily withdrawn. He mumbled something, dashed his hand across his face, and strode rapidly toward the boat. “Good-by, Biddon. God bless you!” I called after him. The _voyageurs_ seized their oars, and in a few moments they were in the stream, their same cheery song echoing as loudly and as joyously as before. I stood upon the bank, watching them as the current bore them onward. In a few moments they reached a bend in the river--Biddon made a signal to me, and the next minute they had all vanished.