notwithstanding the wildness and eccentricity
of his character--of his crimes, I might add--his heart, ill directed by
early education, ill guided by after-association, was still rife with
many virtues. Many proofs of this could I recall; and I confess that a
feeling akin to friendship had sprung up between myself and this
singular man.
Between him and Garey the ties were still stronger. Long and
inseparable companionship--years of participation in a life of hardships
and perils--like thoughts and habitudes--though perhaps dispositions,
age, and characters a good deal unlike--all had combined to unite the
two in a firm bond of friendship. To use their own expressive phrase,
they "_froze_" to each other. No wonder then that the look, with which
the young trapper regarded that black plain, was one of indescribable
anguish.
To his mournful speech I made no reply. What could I have said? I
could not offer consolation. I was grieving as well as he: my silence
was but an assent to his sad soliloquy.
After a moment he continued, his voice still tremulous with sorrow--
"Come, commarade! It are no use our cryin like a kupple o' squaws."
With his large finger he dashed the tears aside, as if ashamed of having
shed them.
"It are all over now," he continued. "Let's look arter his bones--that
is, if thar's anythin left o' 'em--and gie 'em Christyun burial. Come!"
We caught our horses, and mounting, rode off over the burnt ground.
The hoofs of the animals tossed up the smouldering ashes as we advanced,
the hot red cinders causing them to prance. The smoke pained our eyes,
and prevented us from seeing far ahead; but we guided ourselves as well
as we could towards the point where we had last seen the trapper, and
where we expected to find his remains.
On nearing the spot, our eyes fell upon a dark mass that lay upon the
plain: but it appeared much larger than the body of a man. We could not
make out what it was, until within a few feet of it, and even then it
was difficult to recognise it as the carcass of a buffalo--though truly
in reality it was. It was no doubt the game which the hunter had
killed. It rested as it had fallen--as these animals usually fall--upon
the breast, with legs widely spread, and humped shoulders upward.
We could perceive that the unfortunate man had nearly finished skinning
it--for the hide, parted along the spine, had been removed from the back
and sides, and with the flesh
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