"Well, well. Come, old man. One must have been a fool to be wise. Huh! Is it for you to talk? And behold, M'sieu Bridger will be the disappoint."
Lander surmised as much and it was with considerable misgivings that he went in search of his chief. He found him completing the transaction of the robes with Phinny. He waited until Phinny superintended the carrying away of the robes, but before he could speak another interruption occurred. This was a woebegone looking man, who announced he had just arrived from down-river.
"If you want a good man I'd like to hire out with you. I'm Ferguson of the H. B. I do not want to go back to headquarters. Blackfeet robbed me of forty packs of beaver. Once before I lost the season's furs."
"Lucky they didn't take your hair," said Bridger. "I'm afraid I can't hire you except as a trapper. I'll give you credit for an outfit."
Lander tugged Bridger's arm and drew him aside and whispered:
"Send him after the Crow trade. Seeing that I didn't kill Phinny I'm going back to St. Louis in the fall."
