“BEFORE goin’ further,” continued the trapper, “I oughter tell you that this Black Bill had been on the prairy a long time. Like a good many others, he had run away from the law in the States, an’, fallin’ in with more rascals as bad as he war, he soon made himself known, by name, to nearly every trapper in the country. ’Sides robbin’ lone men he met on the prairy an’ in the mountains, he would jine in with Injuns, an’ lead ’em ag’in wagon trains.

“None of our comp’ny had ever seed him, although, in course, we had often heered of him, an’ we never onct thought that he would have the face to jine in with a party of honest trappers; so we called him Peters, bein’ very fur from thinkin’ that he war the feller that had done so much mischief. If we had knowed who he war, prairy law wouldn’t have let him live five minits.

“Wal, arter we had been at the fort ’bout two weeks, Cap’n Forbes got every thing ready fur the start, an’, one mornin’, bright an’ ’arly, we sot off t’wards the mountains. Thar war fourteen of us altogether—seven of us fellers, five of Bosh Peters’ party, the trader, and his darkey. We had four pack mules; and, as the Cap’n warn’t a bit stingy, he had give us good we’pons an’ plenty of powder an’ lead. I hadn’t forgot what them two fellers said that night, although I hadn’t never spoke about it, fur fear of bein’ laughed at—an’ I kept close watch on the trader, to find out if he had his money with him. He carried a pair of saddle-bags, an’ they were well packed, too; but, judgin’ by the keerless way he throwed them around, when we camped fur the night, thar warn’t no money in ’em. Bosh Peters and his party had all along been tryin’ to git on the right side of us, and purty soon our fellers begun to think that we had been fooled in ’em, an’ that they war all right arter all.

“Wal, when we reached the trappin’ grounds, we built our quarters fur the winter, an’ then commenced work. The trader went with one feller one day, an’ with another the next. He warn’t no trapper; but he liked the sport, an’ seemed to want to larn how it war done. But, arter awhile he got tired of this, an’ staid in the camp from mornin’ till night. He never went out with me; if he had, I should have told him to keep his eye on them money-bags, if he had ’em with him.

“One day, as I war at work settin’ a trap in a clump of bushes that grew on the banks of a little creek, I heered some fellers comin’ along, talkin’ to each other. Now, jest that one little thing war enough to make me b’lieve that thar war somethin’ wrong in the wind, ’cause, when fellers go out to hunt an’ trap, an’ fur nothin’ else, they don’t go together through the woods, as though they were huntin’ cows. So I sot still an’ listened, an’ purty quick heered Bosh Peters talkin’. Thar war one feller with him, but the bushes war so thick I couldn’t see him, an’ I didn’t know his voice. They war comin’ right t’wards me, an’ when they reached the creek, one of ’em went to get a drink, an’ the others sot down on a log not ten foot from me. Purty soon I heered Bosh Peters say:

“‘I know it’s time we war doin’ somethin’, Tom, but I’m a’most afraid to try it. Them ’ar fellers are seven to our five, an’ if we shouldn’t happen to get away, we would ketch prairy law, sartin; an’ that’s a heap wusser nor law in the settlements. They don’t give a feller a chance to break jail on the prairy.’

“‘Black Bill,’ said the other, ‘thar’s jest no use a talkin that ’ar way. If we’re a goin’ to do it at all, now is jest as good a chance as we shall have. The cap’n stays in the camp all day alone, an’ afore the other chaps get back to larn what’s done, we can be miles in the mountains.’

“‘Wal, then,’ said Black Bill, ‘let’s do the job to onct. The cap’n war in the camp this mornin’ when I left, an’ if he’s thar this arternoon, we’ll finish him, an’ the money-bags are ourn. But let’s move off; it won’t do fur us to be seed together.’

“The varlets walked away, an’ I lay thar in them bushes fifteen minutes afore I stirred. This war the fust time that I knowed Black Bill war one of our comp’ny. To say that I war surprised to hear it, wouldn’t half tell how I felt. I war teetotally tuk back. The idee of that feller comin’ into our camp, when he knowed that if he war found out, short work would be made with him! I could hardly b’lieve it. But I couldn’t lay thar, foolin’ away time with such thoughts, when I knowed that the cap’n’s life war in danger. So, thinkin’ the rascals had got out of sight an’ hearin’, I crawled out of the bushes, intendin’ to start at onct fur the camp, an’ tell the fellers what I had jest heered. I walked down to the creek fust, to get a drink, an’ jest as I war bendin’ over, I heered the crack of a rifle; a bullet whistled by, not half an inch from my head, an’ buried itself in the ground. I jumped to my feet, an’ lookin’ up the bank, saw a leetle smoke risin’ from behind a log not twenty yards distant. Grabbin’ my rifle, which I had laid down as I war goin’ to drink, I rushed acrost the creek, an’ the next minit war standin’ face to face with Black Bill. Fur an instant the chap shook like a leaf, an’ turned as pale as his black skin would let him. Then he seemed to find his wits ag’in, fur he stuck out his hand, sayin’:

“‘By gum, Bob Kelly! is that you? I’ll be shot if I didn’t take you fur an Injun. I’m mighty glad I didn’t hit you, Bob!’

“‘You can’t blarney me, Black Bill,’ said I. ‘I know you;’ an’ as I stood thar lookin’ at the rascal, an’ thought of all the badness he had done, I had half a mind to shoot him. The way of it war, the varlet kind o’ thought that somebody had been listenin’ to what he said ’bout robbin’ the cap’n, an’ he had hid behind the log to watch. When he seed me come out of the bushes, he knowed that I had heered all that had been goin’ on, an’ he thought his best plan war to leave me thar dead. But, although he warn’t twenty yards off when he fired at me, he missed me teetotally. Wal, when he seed that I knowed him, an’ that he couldn’t fool me into b’lievin’ that he tuk me fur an Injun, he thought he would skeer me, so he growled:

“‘If you know me, Bob Kelly, you know a man that won’t stand no nonsense. I have friends not fur off, an’ if you know any thing, you’ll travel on ’bout your own bisness.’

“‘Now, look a here, Black Bill,’ said I, ‘I haint never been in the habit of standin’ much nonsense, neither—leastways not from such fellers as you, an’ if you knowed me, you would know that I don’t skeer wuth a charge of gunpowder. That ’ar is the way to the camp, an’ if you want to live two minutes longer, you’ll travel off to onct.’ Seein’ that he didn’t start, but that he stood eyein’ me as if he’d a good mind to walk into me, I stepped back, an’ p’intin’ my rifle straight at his heart, said: ‘I shan’t tell you more’n onct more that ’ar is the way to camp. You can go thar, or you can stay here fur the wolves, jest as you please.’

“I guess he seed that I war in ’arnest, fur he shouldered his empty rifle, an’ started through the woods, I follerin’ close behind, ready to drop him if he should run or show fight. I felt mighty on-easy while travelin’ through that timber, ’cause I knowed well enough that the rascal had friends, an’ if one of ’em should happen to see me marchin’ Black Bill off that ’ar way, he’d drop me, sartin. But I reached the camp in safety, an’ thar I found two of our own fellers, an’ four that I had allers thought war friends of Black Bill. They all jumped up as we came in, fur they knowed by the way I looked that somethin’ war wrong, an’ one of ’em said:

“‘What’s Bosh Peters been a doin’, Bob?’

“‘That aint no Bosh Peters,’ said I; ‘that ’ar chap is Black Bill.’

“Now comes the funniest part of the hul bisness. Every trapper on the prairy, as I told you, had heered of Black Bill, an’ when I told ’em that my prisoner war the very chap, an’ that he had been layin’ a plan to rob the cap’n, I never seed sich a mad set of men in my life.

“They all sot up a yell, an’ one of ’em, that I would have swore war a friend of Black Bill, drawed his knife, an’ made at the varlet as if he war goin’ to rub him out to onct. But my chum, Ned Roberts, ketched him, and tuk the we’pon away from him. This sot the feller to bilin’, and he rushed round the camp wusser nor a crazy man. He said that Black Bill had shot his chum, an’ that he war swore to kill him wherever he found him; and he war goin’ to do it, too. An’ the fust thing we knowed, he grabbed somebody’s rifle, an’ jumped back to shoot the pris’ner. But he war ketched ag’in, afore he could fire, and then he howled wusser nor ever. Wal, we tied Black Bill to a tree in the camp, an’ this feller kept slippin’ round, with his tomahawk in his hand, an’ it tuk two men to get the we’pon away from him.

“The chap tuk on so, that we all thought that he told the truth, but, (would you believe it?) I arterwards larnt that he war the very same chap that I had heered talkin’ with Black Bill ’bout robbin’ the cap’n. He kind o’ thought that we might know something ag’in him, an’ he carried on in that way to make us b’lieve that he war really an enemy of Black Bill. In course we didn’t know this at the time. If we had, he’d soon been a pris’ner too. But, supposin’ him to be tellin’ the gospel truth, we felt sorry fur him, an’ promised that Black Bill shouldn’t ever be let loose to do meanness ag’in. While the fuss war goin on, the trader come out; an’ when we told him what happened—how the pris’ner an’ one of his friends, that we didn’t know, had been layin’ a plan to do robbery an’ killin’; an’ that the chap he called Bosh Peters war none other than Black Bill the outlaw—I never seed a man so tuk back in my life. It skeered him purty bad. He had allers looked upon Black Bill as one of the honestest men in the expedition; an’, when he found that he war a traitor, he didn’t know who to trust; an’ he tuk mighty good keer not to be alone durin’ the rest of the arternoon.

“Wal, when it growed dark, the fellers began to come in from their day’s work, some loaded with furs, an’ others with a piece of bar or big-horn, which they had knocked over for supper. As fast as they come in, we told ’em what war up, an’ they didn’t take it very easy, now, I tell you.

“The idee that Black Bill, arter doin’ so much badness—robbin’ lone trappers an’ leadin’ wild Injuns ag’in wagon trains—should come into one of our forts, an’ stick his name down with those of honest, hard-workin’ trappers, when he knowed that every one of ’em had plenty ag’in him, I say it war hard to b’lieve. But thar he war, tied to a tree, an’, when the boys come to look at him close, they wondered that they hadn’t knowed afore that he war a villain.

“Wal, we waited a long time for all of our fellers to come in; but thar war three of us missin’, an’ that war the only thing that saved Black Bill. We didn’t want to pass sentence on him without lettin’ all the boys have a chance to say somethin’; an’ as they might come in some time durin’ the night, we thought we would keep the varlet till morning. So we tied him, hand an’ foot, and laid him away in one of the cabins. The cap’n’s darkey made him a bed of hemlock boughs, an’ laid him on it, abusin’ him all the while like all natur’, an’ goin’ in for shootin’ him to onct. It would have been well for one of us, if we had put that darkey in there as a pris’ner too. But we didn’t know it, an’ afore we got through he cost us the life of one of the best men in our comp’ny. The fellers then all went to bed except me. I guarded the varlet till the moon went down, and then, arter calling my chum, who war to watch him till daylight, I went into my quarters an’ slept soundly all the rest of the night. When it come mornin’, I awoke, an’, in a few minits, all our boys war up. The fellers had all come in durin’ the night, an’ ole Jim Roberts—my chum’s ole man—who war our leader, called a council. Black Bill didn’t seem to have a friend among us, for the last man of us said as how the law must be lived up to.

“‘Who guarded him last night?’ asked the ole man.

“‘I did,’ I answered, ’till the moon went down, and then Ned tuk my place.’

“‘Wal, Ned, bring out the pris’ner,’ said the ole man. ‘But whar is Ned?’ he asked, runnin’ his eye over the camp. ‘Ned! Ned Roberts!’

“I had all along s’posed that Ned war still guardin’ the pris’ner; but when he didn’t answer, I knowed in a minit that somethin’ had been goin’ wrong ag’in, an’ the others knowed it too, fur men who have lived in danger all their lives aint long in seein’ through a thing of that kind. So we all rushed to the cabin where we had left the outlaw, an’ there lay my chum—stark an’ dead—stabbed to the heart! The pris’ner war gone. Thar war the strips of hickory bark we had tied him with, an’ thar war the knife he had used—but Black Bill had tuk himself safe off. We stood thar, not knowin’ what to say or do. Ole Jim war the fust that could speak.

“‘Another gone,’ said he; ’an’ it’s my only son; an’ now whar’s the traitor?’

“He looked from one to the other of us as he said this, but no one answered.

“‘He’s here right among you,’ said the ole man, the tears rollin’ down his cheeks. ‘He’s right among you. That knife couldn’t got in here without hands; an’ thar’s somebody in this yere camp, that’s helped Black Bill in makin’ his escape. Speak, men, who’s the outlaw’s friend?’

“But still no one answered. We all knowed he war thar, but how could we tell who it war, when we had no proff ag’in any one?

“‘Bring him out, boys,’ said the old man, at last. ‘He war a kind son, an’ a good trapper. But he’s done his work now, an’ we’ve lost one of the best men in our comp’ny.’

“Wal, we carried poor Ned out, an’ arter layin’ him in my cabin, we started off on the trail of the outlaw. But he had a good long start, an’ that night we had to come back without him. I’ve never seen him from that day to this.

“The next mornin’ none of us went out to trap, fur we couldn’t help thinkin’ of poor Ned. He war the fust chum I had ever had, an’ me an’ him had been together a’most ever since we had strength to shoulder a rifle—more’n ten year—an’, in course, I war in natur’ bound to avenge him. I staid in my quarters, wonderin’ who it war that had helped the outlaw; when, all of a sudden, I happened to think of somethin’ that brought me to my feet in a hurry, an’ sent me into ole Jim’s quarters. I talked the matter over with him, told him what I thought, an’, in a few minits more, we called our boys together, an’ war marchin’ t’wards the trader’s camp. The darkey war cookin’ his master’s breakfast, in front of the cabin, singin’ an’ whistlin’ as jolly as could be; but when he seed us a comin’ he shet up in a mighty hurry, an’ actooally turned white! I knowed he wouldn’t act that ar’ way if he warn’t guilty, so I sung out, ‘Here’s the traitor, boys!’

“The darkey, seein’ that the thing war out, started to run. He hadn’t gone far, howsomever, afore we had him, an’ then he ’fessed the hul bisness. He said he had told the outlaw that the cap’n war goin’ to take his money-bags with him, an’ that, bein’ the last to leave Black Bill arter we had tied him, he had hid the knife in his bed. The pris’ner’s arms had been fastened above his elbows, an’, in course, havin’ a sharp we’pon, it war the easiest thing in the world to cut himself loose, an’ to pitch into poor Ned afore he knowed it. Arter he had ’fessed this, we held a council, an’ prairy law tuk its course. This skeered the trader wusser nor ever. If his own servant war treacherous, he couldn’t trust nobody. So he ordered us to break up our camp an’ strike fur the fort. When we got thar, an’ offered to give up our hosses an’ we’pons, he wouldn’t listen to it at all. He said that we had saved him an’ his money-bags, an’ that we could keep our kit, an’ welcome.

“Wal, our huntin’ expedition bein’ broke up, we put out on our own hook. We still thought that them four fellers b’longed to Black Bill’s party, an’ we soon found that it war so; fur we had hardly got out of sight, afore they started fur the mountains. They knowed ’bout whar to go to find the outlaw, an’ they’ve been with him ever since, robbin’ an’ stealin’. One of his party has been rubbed out, but thar ar’ four of them left yet, an’ they do a heap of mischief. I have looked an’ watched fur ’em fur years, an’ if I never find ’em, I shall leave ’em to Dick; so I know justice will be done ’em. If you had knowed all these things, youngster, I don’t reckon you would have slept very sound in Black Bill’s camp.”