Quick as the thought, I placed my finger to the trigger but before I
could level, a voice, with a well-known accent, restrained me.
"Hold on thur!" cried the voice. "Why didn't 'ee say yur hide wur
white? I thought 'twur some sneaking Injun. Who are 'ee, anyhow?
'Tain't Bill Garey? No, Billee, 'tain't you, ole fellur."
"No," said I, recovering from my surprise; "it's not Bill."
"I mout 'a guessed that. Bill wud 'a know'd me sooner. He wud 'a
know'd the glint o' this niggur's eyes as I wud his'n. Ah! poor Billee!
I's afeerd that trapper's rubbed out; an' thur ain't many more o' his
sort in the mountains. No, that thur ain't.
"Rot it!" continued the voice, with a fierce emphasis; "this comes o'
layin' one's rifle ahint them. Ef I'd 'a had Tar-guts wi' me, I wudn't
'a been hidin' hyur like a scared 'possum. But she are gone; that
leetle gun are gone; an' the mar too; an' hyur I am 'ithout eyther beast
or weepun; cuss the luck!"
And the last words were uttered with an angry hiss, that echoed through
every part of the cave.
"Yur the young fellur, the capt'n's friend, ain't 'ee?" inquired the
speaker, with a sudden change of tone.
"Yes," I replied.
"I didn't see yur a-comin' in, or I mout 'a spoke sooner. I've got a
smart lick across the arm, an' I wur just a-tyin' it up as ye tumbled in
thur. Who did 'ee think this child wur?"
"I did not think you were anyone. I took you for a grizzly bear."
"Ha! ha! ha! He! he! he! I thort so, when I heard the click o' your
pistol. He! he! he! If ever I sets my peepers on Bill Garey agin, I'll
make that niggur larf till his guts ache. Ole Rube tuk for a grizzly!
If that ain't--Ha! ha! ha! ha! He! he! he! Ho! ho! hoo!"
And the old trapper chuckled at the conceit, as if he had just been
witnessing some scene of amusement, and there was not an enemy within a
hundred miles of him.
"Did you see anything of Seguin?" I asked, wishing to learn whether
there was any probability that my friend still lived.
"Did I? I did; an' a sight that wur. Did 'ee iver see a catamount
riz?"
"I believe I have," said I.
"Wal, that wur him. He wur in the shanty when it felled. So were I
m'self; but I wa'n't there long arter. I creeped out some'rs about the
door; an' jest then I seed the cap, hand to hand wi' an Injun in a
stan'-up tussle: but it didn't last long. The cap gi'n him a
sockdolloger some'rs about the ribs, an' the niggur went under; he did."
"But what of Seguin? Did you see him afterwards?"
"Did I see him arterwards? No; I didn't."
"I fear he is killed."
"That ain't likely, young fellur. He knows these diggin's better'n any
o' us; an' he oughter know whur to cacher, I reckin. He's did that,
I'll be boun'."
"Ay, if he would," said I, thinking that Seguin might have followed the
captives, and thrown away his life recklessly.
"Don't be skeert about him, young fellur. The cap ain't a-gwine to put
his fingers into a bee's nest whur thur's no honey; he ain't."
"But where could he have gone, when you did not see him afterwards?"
"Whur could he 'a gone? Fifty ways he kud 'a gone through the brush. I
didn't think o' lookin' arter him. He left the Injun whur he had
throw'd him, 'ithout raisin' the har; so I stooped down to git it; an'
when I riz agin, he wa'n't thur no how. But that Injun wur. Lor'! that
Injun are some punkins; he are."
"What Indian do you mean?"
"Him as jined us on the Del Norte--the Coco."
"El Sol! What of him? is he killed?"
"Wal, he ain't, I reckin; nor can't a-be: that's this child's opeenyun
o' it. He kim from under the ranche, arter it tumbled; an' his fine
dress looked as spick as ef it had been jest tuk out o' a bandy-box.
Thur wur two at him, an', Lor'! how he fit them! I tackled on to one o'
them ahint, an' gin him a settler in the hump ribs; but the way he
finished the other wur a caution to Crockett. 'Twur the puttiest lick I
ever seed in these hyur mountains, an' I've seed a good few, I reckin."
"How was it?"
"'Ee know, the Injun--that are, the Coco--fit wi' a hatchet?"
"Yes."
"Wal, then; that ur's a desprit weepun, for them as knows how to use it;
an' he diz; that Injun diz. T'other had a hatchet, too, but he didn't
keep it long. 'Twur clinked out o' his hands in a minnit, an' then the
Coco got a down blow at him. Wagh! it wur a down blow, an' it wa'n't
nuthin' else. It split the niggur's head clur down to the thrapple.
'Twus sep'rated into two halves as ef 't had been clove wi' a broad-axe!
Ef 'ee had 'a seed the varmint when he kim to the ground, 'ee'd 'a
thort he wur double-headed. Jest then I spied the Injuns a-comin' down
both sides o' the bluff; an' havin' neyther beast nor weepun, exceptin'
a knife, this child tuk a notion 'twa'n't safe to be thur any longer,
an' cached; he did."