Bill Biddon, Trapper Part 20

"Whar'd you come from?" asked a short, gruff-looking man.

"No place in particular, at present," I replied, pleasantly.

"One of them Nor'west chaps, I s'pose?"

"No, sir; I am no trapper at all, but a mere adventurer in these parts."

"Pooty story to tell them as will believe it," he retorted, angrily.

"I am sure it is immaterial with me whether you believe it or not.

If I were a member of the Northwest Fur Company, I should not be ashamed or afraid to own it, as I believe that is as respectable and honorable as the one in whose service you are."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "A fight! a fight! make a ring for them."]

"Boys! do you hear that?" called out a fellow beside me. "Yer's one of them sneaking chaps--a Nor'wester, and he's insulted us--"

"Beg your pardon, sir," I interrupted; "I did no such thing."

"Do you hear that, I say?" he called out, without regarding my words.

"Here's a sneaking Nor'wester cracking up his party afore us."

I was so provoked that I made no reply or noticed him. His words attracted their attention, and, anxious to see the trouble, they gathered round.

"What's up?" demanded a stumpy fellow, pus.h.i.+ng his head in between the others.

"A fight! a fight!"

"Make a ring for 'em."

"Blow me, if he don't look like one o' them Nor'westers as sent Governor Semple out the world.[6] Go in, Tom!"

[6] In an affray between two parties, belonging respectively to the Hudson Bay and Northwest Fur Companies, the leader of the former, Mr. Semple, was shot by a member of the latter. This happened some years before the date of our story, but for a long time there was ill-feeling and frequent encounters between the members of the companies.

"I'll maul him as soon as I get in fightin' order," said Tom--he of my first acquaintance.

Matters were now getting serious. A collision between the redoubtable Tom and myself seemed unavoidable. His impudent bravado and insults had roused me somewhat, and I made up my mind that I should withdraw nothing I had uttered, and bear none of his insolence.

"What's the row?" demanded another; "I don't understand it."

"Why, here's a sneakin' Nor'wester," answered Tom, "blowin' 'bout things, and I've made up my mind I won't stand it;" and he continued his war-like preparations.

"That's right, Tom, go in and win," added several voices.

"Gentlemen," said I, "all I ask is that you shall understand this matter and show fair play--"

"We'll do that, you!" interrupted several.

"In the first place," I continued, "I have said nothing against the company in whose service you are. This man, whom you call Tom, accused me of being a member of a rival company; I replied I was not, although I should not be ashamed if such were the case, as I considered the latter as respectable as yours. He avers, however, I have insulted you, and seems determined to avenge it, and I am perfectly willing to gratify him. As I told him, I am not in the service of any company, but am a mere adventurer in these parts. With this explanation I am now ready for any proceeding he may wish."

"Smash me to nuthin', ram me down and shoot me, if thar ain't Ja.r.s.ey, or I'm a sinner!" exclaimed a familiar voice, and the same instant Bill Biddon stepped into the ring before me. "Give us your paw, Ja.r.s.ey."

He grasped my hand and gave a vigorous gripe, while his scarred countenance was dissolved in one great broad smile. It is needless to say I was delighted beyond measure at this unexpected meeting.

"Why, Bill, I little thought to meet you here."

"And yer's as what thinks Bill didn't think so himself."

During this pa.s.sage of words between us, the others stood wondering and perplexed. The honest old trapper turned, and seeing Tom standing with his fists still clinched, shouted:

"Ef you say another word to that gentleman thar, as is worth forty like you, there'll be only a grease-spot left of you. Do you hear, eh?" and he shook his ponderous fist beneath his nose.

The fellow did hear, and with a muttering, "It's cu'rous, I allow,"

donned his coat with the most perfect meekness.

"Now," said Biddon facing the rest, "if thar are any 'bout yer as wants to take up this fout, why jist step forward and get lammed."

"Is he a Nor'wester?" asked one, breaking the perfect silence.

"What you want to know fur?"

"'Cause if he is, he can't pa.s.s this crowd without swallerin' them words."

"What words?" demanded Biddon, fiercely.

"What Tom said he said."

"Have I not explained--" I commenced.

"Now jist hold on, Ja.r.s.ey," interrupted the trapper, turning toward me with a backward wave of his hand. "Now, hold on, you, fur ef you take back anything you've said, shoot me, ef _I_ don't lick you. Ogh!" Then turning to the others he continued, "He ain't goin' to take back nothin' he's said yerabouts; and ef Tom Wilson thar don't swaller what _he_ said, yer's as will make him do it."

"I mought've be mistaken," said the now thoroughly-frightened Tom.

"That won't do."

"Wal, he didn't say so," he jerked out.

"That'll answer. S'posen I say he is a Nor'-wester, how 'bout that?"

demanded Biddon, glaring about on the rest.

There was no response. All was still as death.

"Wal, boys," added Bill, returning to his good nature, "he _ain't_ a trapper; never took a skin in his born days; is a parfect gentleman, and I'll make you 'quainted with Bill Relmond, from the States, or, as I call him, Ja.r.s.ey, as fine a chap as ever tramped these parts."

The scene that followed was singular and amusing. All crowded around me, smiling and talking and shaking hands; and the first hand I grasped was Tom Wilson's.

"Hope you won't mind what I said;" he spoke in a lower tone, "I orter been lammed for it, sure."

"Don't refer to it," I laughed; "I suppose you were only anxious for a little amus.e.m.e.nt to pa.s.s away time."