Old Campbell'll be sorry
when I get through with 'em, he let that feller hunt th' path. He's a
fool, an' if he gives me th' slip he'll go back an' say th' Mingen
Injuns took his fur. I fixed that wi' my story all right. I'll take
th' lot t' Mingen an' get cash fer 'em, an' be back t' th' Bay with
open water with 'nuff martens so's they won't suspect me."
He started a fire and slept until shortly after daylight. Then had
breakfast and started down the trail towards the river at the same
rapid pace that he had held before.
It was not quite dark when he glimpsed the tilt, and approached it
with even more caution than he had observed above.
"He don't know enough to lie," said he to himself, referring to Bob,
"but it's best t' take care, fer one o' th' others might be here."
When he was satisfied that the tilt was unoccupied he entered boldly
and appropriated every skin of fur he found--not only all of Bob's,
but also a few martens Bill had left there. No time was lost, for any
accident might send Bill or one of the others here at an unexpected
moment. The pelts were packed quickly but carefully into his hunting
bag and within twenty minutes after his arrival he was retreating up
the trail at a half run.
Some time after dark he reached the first tilt above the river, where
he spent the night.
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