BIG THOMPSON.
“How, kurnel!” exclaimed the newcomer.
“How!” replied the officer. “Sit down.”
“The race of giants is not extinct, after all,” thought Oscar, as his
eyes rested on the tall, broad-shouldered man, who stepped across the
threshold, carrying a soldier’s overcoat on his arm and a slouch hat in
his hand. “I don’t wonder that he is called ‘Big’ Thompson.”
He _was_ big—that was a fact. He stood considerably over six feet in his
moccasins, and must have weighed at least 250 pounds, although there was
not an ounce of superfluous flesh on him.
He moved as if he were set on springs, and his tightly fitting jacket of
buckskin showed muscles on his arms and chest the like of which Oscar
had never seen before.
He wore no weapon, and in fact the boy did not think he needed any, for
he looked strong enough to battle empty-handed with anybody or anything.
Like most big men he was good-natured,—his face testified to that
fact,—and it needed but one glance at it to satisfy Oscar that the owner
of it was a man who could be trusted under any circumstances.
“Thompson,” continued the colonel, as the scout seated himself in the
chair that was pointed out to him, and deposited his hat and coat on the
floor, “this young gentleman is Mr. Oscar Preston, who has come out here
from the States to spend the winter in hunting. He needs a guide who
knows all about the country and the game that is to be found in it, and
I have recommended you. Now see if you can strike a bargain with him.”
The scout listened attentively, and when the colonel ceased speaking he
turned and gave Oscar a good looking over.
The boy thought he could not have been very much impressed with his
appearance, for, after running his eyes over him from head to foot, he
nodded his head slightly, said “How!” in rather a gruff tone—that was
his way of saying “How do you do?”—and then settled back in his chair
and turned his face toward the colonel again.
The latter went on to explain the nature of Oscar’s business, and, as
the scout knew no more about taxidermy or a museum than he did of
chemistry or geology, the officer was obliged to make use of a good many
words, and those of the simplest kind too, in order to make him
understand what it was that brought the boy to the plains.
There were two things, however, that Big Thompson _did_ comprehend,
viz., that Oscar intended to spend the winter in some good game country,
and that he was able and willing to pay liberally for the services of an
experienced plainsman to act in the capacity of guide and cook.
The hunting Oscar intended to do himself. He hastened to explain this
fact to the scout, adding that, when he presented his specimens for the
inspection of the committee at Yarmouth, he wanted to be able to say
that they had all fallen to his own rifle.
“Then we’ll starve fur want of grub, an’ you won’t get none of them
things,” remarked Big Thompson.
“What things?” asked Oscar.
“Them what-do-ye-call-’ems.”
“Specimens? Oh, I hope I shall! I have a room full of them at home now.”
“What be they?”
“Birds, principally.”
“Did you ever see a b’ar?”
“Not a wild one.”
“Nor a painter nuther?”
Oscar replied in the negative.
“What do ye reckon ye’d do if ye should see one o’ them varmints?” asked
the scout.
“I am sure I don’t know,” was the honest reply.
“Wa-al, I kin tell ye. Ye’d take to yer heels an’ leave me to shoot him.
I’ve been huntin’ with a heap of fellows from the States, an’ that’s
what they all do.”
“I know one fellow from the States who will not take to his heels at the
sight of a bear or a panther,” said Oscar to himself.
He did not speak the words aloud, for, being no boaster, he preferred to
be judged by his actions.
Before many weeks had passed over his head he had an opportunity to show
what he was made of, and then Big Thompson found that he had been sadly
mistaken in the boy.
If Oscar’s courage had not been equal to his skill as a taxidermist the
scout never would have seen Julesburg again.
“I reckon ye wouldn’t mind if I should do a little huntin’ an’ trappin’
on my own hook, would ye?” said Big Thompson after a moment’s pause.
“Certainly not. All I ask is that you will let me go with you and see
how it is done. It is possible that I may make my living for years to
come in that way, and I want to know how to go to work. Now let’s come
to business. What wages do you expect, and do you want to be paid every
month, or shall I settle with you when we return to the fort in the
spring?”
“Wa-al, pilgrim, we’ll settle up when we come back, an’ it’ll be afore
spring too,” replied the scout, with a grin. “A kid like yourself, who
has lived in the States his hull life, aint a-goin’ to stay all winter
in the hills—leastwise not if he can get outen ’em. Ye hear me speakin’
to ye?”
Without stopping to argue this point Oscar again broached the subject of
wages, and at the end of a quarter of an hour the matter had been
satisfactorily settled and all arrangements completed.
Thompson was to be allowed three days in which to make ready for the
journey. He was a married man, and his cabin was located twenty miles
from the fort.
He wanted to move his family nearer to the post, so that during his
absence his wife could easily procure the supplies she needed from the
sutler.
It would not be long, he said, before travelling on the Laramie plains
would be next to impossible, and while he was gone he wanted to know
that his family was well provided for, and in no danger of being snowed
up and starved to death.
He would be at the post bright and early on the following Monday, and
would expect to find Oscar all ready for the start.
This much having been arranged, and the rate of the pay agreed upon, the
scout put on his coat and hat and walked out, accompanied by the colonel
and Oscar.