said I was goin' to fetch it ashore, an' I
did. I took to the water an' swum out. I could smell the animal afore I
wur half way. I wur soon close up, and seen at a glimpse that the calf
wur as rotten as punk. The birds, they mizzled. I wa'n't agoin' to have
my swim for nothin', so I tuk the tail atween my teeth, and wagged my
flippers for the shore. I hadn't made three strokes When the tail pulled
out. I then swum round and pushed that 'ere thing afore me, until I had
got it high and dry on a sandbar. 'Twur like to melt when I pulled it
out o' the water. 'Twa'n't eatable nohow. I see the buzzards still
flying about, and fresh ones comin', an' I took a idee that I might get
some, so I laid down close to the buffler, and played possum. I wa'n't
long there 'fore a big cock com a floppin' up, and lit on the karkidge.
I grabbed him by the leg. The cussed thing wur nearly as stinkin' as the
other; but it wur die dog, buzzard, or buffler; so I skinned the
buzzard."

"And ate it?" inquired one.

"No-o" slowly drawled the trapper, "it ate me." A general laugh followed
this remark.

"The rest o' the birds got shy, and kept away on t'other side. 'Twa'n't
no use tryin' _that_ dodge over again. Jest then I 'spied a coyoat
comin' lopin' down the bank, an' another follerin' upon his heels, an'
two or three more on the same trail. I know'd it would be no joke
grippin' one o' them by the leg, but I made up my mind to try it, an' I
laid down jist as afore, 'side the calf. 'Twur no go! they smelt a rat,
an' kep' cl'ar. Then I tuk a fresh idee in my head. I went for some o'
the driftwood an' made a pen around the buffler; an' in the wink o' my
eye I had six o' the varmints in the traps."

"Then you had 'em, eh, old boy?" said one.

"You bet; I jest took a lot of stones, clomb up on the pen, an' killed
the hull kit o' them. Such a jumpin' an' yowlin, as when I peppered them
varmints; he! he! he! ho! ho! Arter this I had some 'at to eat; an' in a
few days reached the company's post."

"Did you ever see any of those redskins again?" I inquired.

"Wal, you jest better believe I did. Yer see those five notches on this
ere rifle? wal, they stand for Crows, they do."

A general laugh followed this yarn, and all averred that his experience
in the eating line was unequalled. After the trapper had finished his
story, we wrapped ourselves in our blankets, and were with the exception
of the horse guard, soon in a deep slumber.

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