"Now, you damned rascals! jump into your saddles and be off. Take the
nigger along. Leave the white gentleman in better company, as befits
him."
With a yell of laughter at the coarse sally, the freebooters spring upon
their horses. Then, separating Clancy from Jupe, they ride off, taking
the latter. On the ground are left only the chief, Chisholm, and the
trio chosen to assist at some ceremony, mysteriously spoken of as an
"interment."
After all it is not to be there. On reflection, Borlasse deems the
place not befitting. The grave he is about to dig must not be
disturbed, nor the body he intends burying disinterred.
Though white traveller never passes that solitary tree, red ones
sometimes seek relaxation under its shade. Just possible a party of
Comanches may come along; and though savages, their hearts might still
be humane enough to frustrate the nefarious scheme of a white man more
savage than they. To guard against such contingency Borlasse has
bethought him of some change in his programme, which he makes known to
Chisholm, saying:--
"I won't bury him here, Luke. Some strayin' redskin might come along,
and help him to resurrection. By God! he shan't have that, till he
hears Gabriel's trumpet. To make sure we must plant him in a safer
place."
"Can we find safer, cap?"
"Certainly we can."
"But whar?"
"Anywhare out o' sight of here. We shall take him to some distance off,
so's they can't see him from the spring. Up yonder'll do."