He was standing apart from the rest--leaning, I should rather say, for
his body was not erect, but diagonal. In this attitude it was propped
by his rifle, the butt of which was steadied against the stump of a
tree, whilst the muzzle appeared to rest upon the bridge of Rube's own
nose.
As the man and the piece were about of a length, the two just placed in
juxtaposition presented the exact figure of an inverted V, and the small
close-capped skull of the trapper formed a sufficiently tapering apex to
the angle. Both his hands were clasped round the barrel, near its
muzzle, his fingers interlocking, while the thumbs lay flat--one upon
each side of his nose.
At first glance, it was difficult to tell whether he was gazing into the
barrel of the piece, or beyond it upon the Indian camp.
The attitude was not new to him nor to me; it was not the first time I
had observed him in a posture precisely similar. I knew it was his
favourite _pose_, when any question of unusual difficulty required all
the energy of his "instincts." He was now, as often of yore, consulting
his "divinity," presumed to dwell far down within the dark tube of
"Targuts."
After a time, all the others ceased to speak, and stood watching him.
They knew that no step would be taken before Rube's advice had been
received; and they waited with more or less patience for him to speak.
Full ten minutes passed, and still the old trapper neither stirred nor
spoke. Nor lip nor muscle of him was seen to move; the eyes alone could
be detected in motion, and these small orbs, scintillating in their deep
sockets, were the only signs of life which he showed. Standing rigid
and still, he appeared, not a statue, but a scarecrow, propped up by a
stick; and the long, brown, weather-washed rifle did not belie the
resemblance.
Full ten minutes passed, and still he spoke not; his "oracle" had not
yet yielded its response.
I have said that at the first glance it was difficult to tell whether
the old man was gazing into the barrel of his gun or beyond it. After
watching him closely, I observed that he was doing both. Now his eyes
were a little raised, as if he looked upon the plain--anon they were
lowered, and apparently peering into the tube. He was drawing the data
of his problem from facts--he was trusting to his divinity for the
solution.
For a long time he kept up this singular process of conjuration--
alternating his glances in equal distribution between the hollow
cylinder and the circle of vision that comprehended within its
circumference the Comanche encampment.
The others began to grow impatient; all were interested in the result,
and not without reason. Standing upon the limits of a life-danger, it
is not strange they should feel anxiety about the issue.
Thus far, however, none had offered to interrupt or question the queer
old man. None dared. One or two of the party had already had a taste
of his quality when fretted or interfered with, and no one desired to
draw upon himself the sharp "talk" of the earless trapper.
Garey at length approached, but not until Rube, with a triumphant toss
of his head and a scarcely audible "wheep" from his thin lips, showed
signs that the consultation had ended, and that the "joss" who dwelt at
the bottom of his rifle-barrel had vouchsafed an answer!
I had watched him with the rest. I liked that expressive hitch of the
head; I liked the low, but momentous sibillation that terminated the
_seance_ between him and his familiar spirit. They were signs that the
knot was unravelled--that the old trapper had devised some feasible plan
by which the Indian camp might be entered.
Garey and I drew near, but not to question him; we understood him too
well for that. We knew that he must be left free to develop his purpose
in his own time; and we left him free--simply placing ourselves by his
side.
"Wal, Billee!" he said, after drawing a long breath, "an yurself, young
fellur! whet do 'ee both think o' this hyur bizness: looks ugly, don't
it--eh, boyees?"
"Tarnal ugly," was Garey's laconic answer.
"Thort so meself at fust."
"Thar ain't no plan o' gettin' in yander," said the young trapper, in a
desponding tone.
"The doose thur ain't! what greenhorn put thet idee inter yur brain-pan,
Bill?"
"Wal, thar are a plan; but 'tain't much o' a one: we've been talkin it
over hyar."
"Le's hear it," rejoined Rube, with an exulting chuckle--"le's hev it,
boyee! an quick, Bill, fur time's dodrotted preecious 'bout now. Wal?"
"It's jest this, Rube, neyther less nor more: the capt'n proposes to
take the Injun's hoss; and ride straight into thar camp."
"Straight custrut in, do 'ee?"
"Ov coorse; it 'ud be no use goin about the bush: they kin see him
a-comin' from ony side."
"I'll be durned ef they kin--thet I'll be durned. Wagh! they cudn't 'a
see me--thet they cudn't, ef ivery niggur o' 'em hed the eyes o' an
Argoose es hed eyes all over him--thet they cudn't, Billee."
"How?" I inquired. "Do you mean to say that it is possible for any one
to approach yonder camp without being observed? Is that what you mean,
Rube?"
"Thet ur preezactly whet I mean, young fellur. No--not adzactly thet
eyther. One o' _you_ I didn't say: whet I sayed wur, that this hyur
trapper, Rube Rawlins o' the Rocky Mountains, kud slide inter yander
campmint jest like greased lightnin through a gooseberry-bush, 'ithout
e'er an Injun seein 'im; an thet, too, ef the red-skinned vamints hed
more eyes in thur heads than they hev lice; which, accordin' to this
child's reck'nin', 'ud guv ivery squaw's son o' the gang as many peepers
es thur ur spots in a peecock's tail, an a wheen over to breed, I
kalkerlate. No plan to git inter thur camp 'ithout bein' seed! Wagh!
yur gettin' green, Bill Garey!"
"How can it be accomplished, Rube? Pray, explain! You know how
impatient--"
"Don't git unpayshint, young fellur! thet ur's no use whetsomdiver.
Yu'll need payshinse, an a good grist o' thet ur, afore ye kin warm yur
shins at yander fires; but 'ee kin do it, an in the nick o' time too, ef
yu'll go preezactly accordin' to whet old Rube tells ye, an keep yur eye
well skinned and yur teeth from chatterin': I knows yu'll do all thet.
I knows yur weasel to the back o' yur neck, an kin whip yur weight in
wild cat any day i' the year. Now? D'yur agree to follur my
direekshuns!"
"I promise faithfully to act according to your advice."
"Thet ur sensible sayed--durnation'd sensible. Wal, then, I'll gi' ye
my device."
As Rube said this, he moved forward to the edge of the timber, making a
sign for Garey and myself to follow.
On reaching its outer edge--but still within cover--he dropped down upon
his knees, behind some evergreen bushes.
I imitated his example, and knelt upon his right, while Garey crouched
down on the left.
Our eyes were directed upon the Indian camp, of which, and the plain
around it, we had a good view--as good as could be obtained under the
light of a brilliant moon, alas! too brilliant!
After we had surveyed the scene for some moments in silence, the old
trapper condescended to begin the conversation.