The conversation was carried on for an hour or so longer, during which the trapper gave Teddy more advice, and told him the best manner of reaching the tribe to which he referred.  He cautioned him especially against delaying his visit any longer, as the northern winter was almost upon them, and should he be locked in the wilderness by it, it would be almost impossible for him to survive its rigor; but if he should be among the tribe, he could rest in security and comfort until the opening of spring.  Teddy concluded to do as his companion advised, and, after more unimportant conversation, both stretched themselves out by the camp-fire and slept.

Just as the earliest light was breaking through the trees, the trapper was on his feet, rekindling the fire.  Finding, after this was completed, that Teddy still slumbered, he brought him to his senses by several forcible applications of his foot.

“Begorrah, it’s meself that’s thinking yees ’av a mighty gintle way of coming upon one unawares, barring it’s the same as a kick from a wild horse.  I was dr’aming jist thin of a blast of powder in a stone quarry, which exploded under me feet, an’ sint me up in the ship’s rigging, an’ there I hung by the eaves until a lovely girl pulled me in at the front door and shut it so hard that the chinking all fell out of the logs, and woke me out of me pleasint delusions.”

The trapper stared at the Irishman incredulously, thinking him demented.  Teddy’s gaping and rubbing of his eyes with his fists, and, finally, his stretching of arms and legs, reassured Tim of the fellow’s sanity, and he added: 

“If yer hadn’t woke just now, I’d tried ef lammin’ yer over the head would’ve done any good.”

“Yees might have done that, as long as ye plaised, fur me sconce got used to being cracked at the fairs in the owld country.”

“I thought yer allers lived in this country.”

“Not always, or how could I be an Irishman?  God plaise I may niver live here long enough to forgit owld Ireland, the Gim of the Sea.  What’s the matter with yees now?”

The trapper having wandered a few yards from the camp-fire, had paused suddenly and stood gazing at the ground.  Teddy was obliged to repeat his question.

“What is it yees have diskivered?”

“Sign, or ye may shoot me.”

“Sign o’ what?”

“Injins, ye wood-head!  What else could I mean?”

Teddy now approached and narrowly examined the ground.  His knowledge of wood-craft had been considerably increased during the past month or two, and he had no difficulty in distinguishing the imprint of a moccasin.

“Look at the infarnal thing!” exclaimed the trapper, in disgust.  “Who’d a thort there’d ’ve been any of the warmints about, whin we took sich pains with our fire.  Why the chap didn’t send a piece of cold lead into each of our bread-baskets is more nor I can tell.  It would’ve sarved us both right.”