A tour of the places where trappers congregated was barren of results until he had reached the last of such resorts that he knew, and here he found Enoch Birdsall and Alonzo Webb, who welcomed him with such vociferous greetings that he knew they had nearly reached the quarrelsome stage. To his inquiries as to the whereabouts of his partner they made boisterous replies, their laughter rattling the windows. "Ol' beaver's settin' a-top his house--no, 'tain't no house. Settin' a-top yer pile o' goods cached with Cooper's--you tell 'im," yelled Alonzo, slapping Enoch across the back and nearly knocking him out of the chair. "You tell 'im, Ol' Buff'ler!" "Prairie hen on his nest is more like _him_," shouted Enoch, returning his friend's love tap with interest, whereupon Alonzo missed twice and fell to the floor. "Prairie hen on yer nose!" yelled the prostrate trader, trying to swim toward his partner. "Thar ain't no prairie beaver as kin knock me down an' _keep_ me thar! Stan' up like a man, ye polecat! An' I kin lick _you_, too!" he yelled, as Tom avoided his sweeping arm and hastened toward the door. "Better run! Better run! Git 'im Enoch, ye fool!" Tom did not reach the front door, for with astonishing speed and agility for one so far in his cups Enoch, taking up the quarrel of his friend, whom he presently would be fighting, leaped from the table, vaulted over a chair, and by some miracle of drunken equilibrium landed on his feet with his back to the door and swung both fists at the surprised plainsman. Tom's eyes glinted, and then twinkled. He had few better friends than these two quarrelsome traders and, stepping back, he leaped over the prostrate and anything but silent Alonzo and darted out through the back door, laughing at the furious squabbling he left behind. Reaching the corner of the building, he fell into his habitual softness of tread and slipped along the rear of the shacks on a direct course for the place where his and Cooper's merchandise was stored. Schoolcraft's corral loomed up in front of him and he skirted it silently. He almost had reached its far corner when a Mexican's voice, raised in altercation inside the inclosure, caught his ear and checked him, balanced on one foot. "For why he do eet?" demanded the Mexican, excitedly. "I tol' heem that he mus' leeve Tomaz tr-rade goods by themselves. He ees goin' to Santa Fe weethout for-rce; an' now eet ees all spoil! For what he do eet? Bah! For hees revenge he say. What ees hees revenge like Armijo's?" "Oh, shut yer mouth an' stop yer yowlin'," growled a gruff voice. "Eph allus knows what he's a-doin'."