Giving 'em Pepper
It was a jovial party which sat round the camp fire on the evening
following the defeat of the Indians, for even the old and tried hunters
could not help a feeling of elation.
"It makes yer feel jest like a kid," said Steve, as he blinked in the
firelight, and looked across at Jack, who was tending the buffalo steaks
hissing over the embers. "It ain't so many hours ago as me and Carrots
was, as yer might say, fair up agin it. I didn't look to come out clear.
And yet, here we aer, and I'm watchin' thim steaks pretty close, which
seems to show as thar ain't nothing much wrong."
"And the back, mate?" asked Tom, striding across towards him, and
looking particularly big.
"Jest as well as ever," came the hearty answer. "I'm that young and
skittish, seems I could kick the carrots off Jack's head. Hand over one
of them steaks, young 'un. A man same as me don't oughter be kept
waitin'."
"We was talkin' of pepper," began Jacob, one of the hunters, when the
meal was ended, and all were smoking their pipes. "That 'ere word minds
me of a time when we give them red devils pepper same as we did to-day,
only 'twarn't in these here parts, and we wasn't fer makin' gold in
Californy."
"You kin get to at the yarn," sang out Seth promptly. "Thar ain't one of
us as feels he aer got any use for a blanket yet awhile, and seem' it's
fine and pleasant, why jest wet yer throat, and then let's have it from
the beginnin'."
He leaned across to the hunter and handed him a brimming pannikin, which
he had just replenished from the keg of spirit the party carried, and
from the water bag in which the precious fluid was stored. Jacob let his
head fall back promptly, raised the pannikin, and for the moment the
silence which had fallen on the camp was broken by the gurgle of the
fluid.
"Thanks, mate," gasped Jacob, getting his breath. "We was talkin' of
pepper."
"We war," admitted Steve, edging a trifle closer to the fire.
"And we aer fair greedy fer the story," smiled Tom. "You ain't got no
call ter look up ter the sky. The yarn ain't thar. Ye've got it stowed
in yer head. Give it a shake and out with it. Ef not, I'll send Carrots
here ter see whether a little hammerin' won't help you any."
There was a hearty laugh as Tom spoke, but the words made not the
smallest difference to Jacob. He sat back on his elbows staring up at
the sky, as if endeavouring to collect memories of past times. Jack took
a look at the big hunter, wondered whether he himself would ever present
such a decidedly manly appearance, and then fell to admiring the heavens
too. For they were on the verge of California, and overhead hung a
cloudless vault, speckled with such bright, twinkling stars that even
the moon rays were paled.
"It war a night same as this," began Jacob at length, "jest fer all the
world same as this. The stars and moon that bright and clear yer could
see to read easy. Wall, I ain't here ter tell of the stars and sichlike.
I'm mindin' the time when I was workin' the cattle fer a boss a goodish
way south of this, in a country that's even now more Injun than
anythin'. He was rough, war that 'ere boss, and we ended a long day
amongst the beasts with sharp and bitter words. I 'low as a man as hires
me has a right ter git the value of his dollars outer me. But I don't
cotton to no bossin'. I don't see that 'cos a man employs a hand he has
a right ter bully him, ter shout names at him, and rile him every hour
of the day. That ain't in reason."
He looked round the assembled scouts, as if to gather their views on the
matter.
"Git on with it," shouted Steve shortly.
"Them's my views in a nutshell," cried Tom. "No man ain't goin' ter be
bullied."
"So I thought," continued Jacob. "And though it war evenin', and dark to
be expected precious soon, I jest give the boss back some of the lip
he'd been throwin' at me, and at the same time told him I war quittin'.
We squared up the wages right off, and then I climbed into my saddle and
rid away from the farm. I war mighty angry and hot."
"And likely as not didn't take no partic'lar direction," sang out one of
the listeners.
"Ye've got it right and early. I was that mad with the boss I jest
kicked the flanks of my hoss and rid right off like a whirlwind. But a
man finds a gallop across the grass kinder clears his brain, and takes
the anger out of him. I soon got to rememberin' that I hadn't touched a
crust sense breakfast, and that war early with the sun risin'.
"Ye're a fool, Jacob," I says to myself. "Ye've rid off hot and hasty,
like a child, and now ye've got ter suffer. Whar's best to go?"
"The hoss could tell yer," cried Tom.
"Right agin!" agreed Jacob. "That hoss knew better than me whar I was
likely to find food. I've seed the same thing many a time out on the
plains. Ef a man's lost, and don't know from Adam whar he aer, it's
better to give a free rein and leave it to the mount. Suppose he scents
somethin'. Anyway he generally knows whar he's likely to get a feed for
himself and a drop of water. I jest give my critter his head, and
somewhar's about eleven that night we come to a shanty with a wooden
stockade right round it."
"Same as settlers has in an Injun country," remarked Steve.
"The very same, and seems they need them 'ere stockades. Wall, thar the
shanty was, outlined clear in the light, lookin' that peaceful yer
wouldn't ha' thought a fly could ha' come to harm. But I hadn't got
within seventy yards when thar was a flash from the house, high up under
the roof, and then a loud report."
"Injuns in already," ventured one of Jacob's companions.
"Wrong, fer sure," growled Steve. "Ef Injuns had been thar, they'd have
burned the place within a few minutes. A white's house aer pison to an
Injun. It makes him fair mad. He can't keep his hands off it, nor fire
away from the roofin'."
"That comes of havin' Injun experience," said Jacob, resuming, and
sending a nod in Steve's direction. "It warn't Injuns. All the same,
when thar's bullets flyin', reckon one don't sit still thinkin'. I was
off my hoss in a jiffy, gettin' cover under the stockade. Then I put my
hands to my mouth and sent the folks in the house, whoever they might
be, the shout we was used to give in them parts. Heard it?"
He did not wait for an answer, but put his hands at once to his lips,
and sent forth a halloo which awoke the echoes.
"Thar ain't no mistake about a call like that," said Jacob, decision in
his tones, "and the folks in that shanty couldn't help but know that it
was a white man outside, one as was friendly."
"And so the shootin' stopped," suggested Tom.
"Wrong. A bit of a bullet kicked a stone at my feet and sent me howlin'.
Reckon a flint can hurt most same as a bullet. Anyway, that 'ere stone
give me a blow that staggered me. And after it half a dozen shots rang
out from the shanty."
"What in thunder did it all mean?" asked one of the men.
"And then there was a shout, an answerin' shout."
"Yes," said Steve, edging a trifle closer, "an answerin' shout."
"A woman's shout. A shrill sort of a scream. A thing you couldn't call a
shout, but there ain't no other name as I knows of."
Jacob looked round at his audience questioningly, while each one of the
party wore a different expression on his face.
"Reckon you was wishin' you hadn't row'd with the boss," grinned Tom.
"P'raps you had falled asleep on your hoss," cried Seth, "and was sorter
dreamin'."
Jacob snorted with indignation. "As ef that war likely," he cried.
"Didn't I say as I howled with pain when the flint struck me? No. You're
guessin'. The shanty war there, standin' black in the moonlight, and
them shouts were real. They were shrill, and come from a woman. They
kind of scared me fer a minute."
"Yer bolted again?" asked Steve.
"I jest hooked the reins over the corner of a post standin' outside the
stockade, and clambered over."
"More bullets," suggested one of the men.
"Shots, yes, but not in my direction. Thar was shoutin', a man's and a
woman's, and then shootin'. Then the door of the shanty war opened and I
ran in."
Jacob stopped for a moment at the most critical point in his narrative,
causing all his comrades to sit up expectantly.
"Wall?" demanded Tom irritably, stuffing his pipe with his finger.
"It was Injuns," asserted one of the men. "Yer was taken by a bit of
foolin'."
"It warn't," answered Jacob shortly and curtly. "It war a madman."
"A madman! A madman!" The words were bandied from one to another. The
listeners looked askance at one another, for madness out on the plains
was in those days exceptional, and in nearly every case ended in a
terrible tragedy.
"Man or woman?" asked Seth. "Seems either's likely."
"It war the man," said Jacob slowly. "It war the man, a white man, same
as you and me. Seems he'd gone suddenly crazy at sight of me, and set to
at shootin'. It war his wife's voice I'd heard, her's and her two boys.
When I got in to the sorter parlour place in the centre of the shanty,
thar she war, with the two young 'uns, holdin' on to the man fer their
lives."
"Gee, that war strange!" muttered Steve. "P'raps something outer the
ordinary had scared him."
"Or he'd been thinkin' so long about Injuns, and likely attacks, that
the thing had kind of got on his mind and unhinged it. I've heard tell
of a similar thing afore. A man gets fidgety, specially ef he ain't used
to Injuns and the plains, and ain't been brought up to the life. His
nerves git shook up, and one fine day, when there ain't no real danger,
he takes his own shadow for an enemy, and blazes off with his gun. Often
enough it's someone he's most fond of that he shoots."
Tom delivered himself of the statement calmly and slowly. Then he
carefully refilled his pipe, while his comrades looked round at one
another. Jacob, the slow, ponderous Jacob, who so seldom launched into a
tale, had provided the camp with a subject, a riddle, and all struggled
to come to a solution.
"It war that, or near it," agreed Tricky Seth.
"Or he'd been ill, and was jumpin' mad in his delirium," suggested
another.
"I dunno as you're right or wrong," came slowly from Jacob. "Reckon he
war ill, ill with grief and anxiety, and reckon his nerves was fair
shook up. He war mad, stark, starin' crazy without a doubt, and we had
to make him fast so as he shouldn't do anyone a mischief."
"Yer ain't told us why," cried one of the men. "What had come along to
upset this here man so? Somethin' outer the ordinary."
"Yer kin guess so. It war somethin' outer the ordinary, and sense I
started this here yarn by sayin' that I knew of a time when we'd given
the critters real pepper, you can 'low as it war Injuns as war the
cause. Injuns had come along and upset this man till he was worried
clean off his head. Now I'll tell yer how it happened. Allen Rivers war
a new settler out in them parts, a brave man fer all his madness. He'd
been warned time and agin to beware of the Injuns, specially of Hawk
Eye, a critter that was chief of a tribe huntin' in that neighbourhood.
And yer must understand that although trouble with the redskins war as a
general thing to be expected, yet thar war times when powder and lead
and sichlike articles was runnin' short in the wigwams, and the critters
had need to come in to the white man's settlements and be friendly.
Allen Rivers had set up a sorter store. He'd had visits from the Injuns,
and he'd done smart business with Hawk Eye. The chief had been that
smilin' that Allen had taken him into the stockade, and once into the
house, and the Injun had been able to get a good look round. Wall, Allen
had two boys--the youngsters that met me on the doorstep--twelve and
fourteen years of age, and proper plucked 'uns too; thar war his wife,
as brave a woman as you could meet in a week's march, and besides them
three, a baby, a gal. Wall, now----"
Jacob coughed. He was one of those slow men who take a deal of rousing,
and who seldom indulge in a yarn, but, when once induced to speak, do so
at their own pace and leisure. The burly scout was exasperatingly slow
in his utterance.
"Ye've got to the pith of it," sang out Steve. "Thar war a baby."
"Thar war. A baby gal, and Injuns has a strange sorter likin' fer baby
gals as is the children of white people. They thinks they bring 'em good
luck; and it seemed as Hawk Eye's own wife hadn't got no children. No
doubt the chief got to tellin' her of Allen Rivers's shanty, of his wife
and kids, and set her wishin' fer the gal. Anyway, Hawk Eye had done
trade with Allen jest two days before I come there, and seemed to have
ridden back to his own place. But that very mornin' the child was taken,
taken from its bark crib, which Mrs. Allen had jest set down outside the
door of the shanty. And though every one of 'em searched fer all he
could, and though Allen climbed on to his horse and rid round and round,
thar warn't a trace of the kid, not a trace. But one of the boys picked
up a feather, and then they knew as it war Hawk Eye and his people that
had done it."
"I've knowed a similar thing," said Steve, interrupting. "Them critters
looks upon a white kid as likely to bring 'em victory in their fightin',
and fortune in their huntin'. You aer made no error. Push on with it,
Jacob."
"Allen guessed that ef they'd taken the kid they might be up to more
mischief, and, bein' a nervous, jerky sort of feller, blest ef he
didn't go off his head. That's whar we get to when I arrived. Allen
warn't no more good. He war, instead, a worry. Thar war me and the two
boys and Mrs. Rivers."
"With Injuns round about?"
"With the critters on the far side of the stockade," agreed Jacob.
"Seems I had missed 'em by a chance. I was jest a quarter of an hour too
early for 'em. But I hadn't been in the shanty more'n a few minutes, and
had made Allen fast, when I seed a figure clamberin' over the gate of
the stockade. Remember, it war a bright night, same as this, and dead
agin the Injun's chances. But they reckoned to take the place easy, and
wasn't over cautious."
"Yer give that feller pepper?" asked Seth.
Jacob nodded. "I dropped him same as a bird, and that set 'em howlin'.
The shot took 'em all by surprise. They looked to have the gate of the
stockade open and to be in the shanty afore Allen and his wife war
properly awake. The critters set up a howl that was enough to scare one,
and then three of 'em came clamberin' after the man I'd shot.
"'Jest get to them other windows, boys,' I sang out; fer there were
loopholes in the corners of the shutters on all four sides of the
shanty. 'Shoot down any man as yer kin see, and ef ye're bothered, jest
sing out. I'll be with yer in a jiffy.'
"Countin' Mrs. Rivers thar was just four of us, and for ten minutes we
was kept precious busy. But them lads could shoot, and their mother like
'em, so that, presently, the critters crept off from the stockade,
leavin' seven of their braves chewin' the grass inside. Yer see, they'd
stood out clear and easy as they climbed, and, the range bein' a short
one, thar warn't no missin'.
"'Gone?' asks Mrs. Rivers, when there wasn't no more of 'em to be seen.
"'Don't yer believe it, ma'am,' I answered. 'Thim critters has got their
eyes on the goods in this store, and fer that reason they ain't likely
to give up the business. And now there's those braves down thar. We've
killed seven of 'em, and the others won't dare to go back to their
wigwams with sich a tale, and with nary a scalp to show. They're bound
to come agin, and we've got to look precious lively. Thar ain't no
sayin' whar they'll come, but come they will, yer kin take my davy. Ef I
wasn't sure that the critters was outside, I'd suggest that one of the
youngsters tried to leg it away from the shanty so as to fetch help. But
they're outside, the skunks, and on a night same as this the lad
wouldn't stand a ghostly.'
"Wall, mates, we got back to our loopholes, and kept a pretty close
watch fer a couple of hours without seein' a sight of them Injuns. But
they was thar, close outside. I heard 'em callin' to one another. Then
suddenly I cottoned to what the artful critters was doin'. The moon was
sinkin', but as bright as ever, and them Injuns reckoned that one of the
walls of the stockade was castin' a biggish shadow on the yard inside.
They war busy diggin' their way in under it."
There was a murmur from the hunters assembled round the fire.
"Jest like the critters," growled Steve. "I've knowed 'em do the same in
similar cases. And the wust of the business aer this: yer kin feel sure
as that aer their game, and sense the shadow's deepest in one
partic'lar spot, yer kin reckon to a foot or two whar they're diggin'.
But yer can't stop the varmint. Ef yer put an eyelid over the stockade,
there's a man ready with an arrow, and ef you think to blaze at 'em
through the woodwork, why, it aer like loosin' off a gun into the air.
Even ef you hit a man, the others jest lie quiet, so yer don't know
what's happened. But maybe one of the critters gets to the hole ye've
made in the stockade, and then it's your turn to look out fer bullets."
"Jest so. That's how we war situated," agreed Jacob. "It war one of them
tarnation bothers that tries a man's nerves. I'd been in more than one
ruction with the redskins afore that day, and I knew somethin' about the
critters. It war as clear as daylight that when they war ready they'd
let the earth on our side fall in, and then the varmint would come
rushin' fer the shanty. It war an almighty fix. It jest made me give up
thinkin'. I got lookin' fer the first of them critters to come
clamberin' in, and listenin' all the while to Mrs. Rivers prayin'. Then
one of them bright lads come out with a suggestion."
"Ah! That's like Carrots," ventured Tom. "'Tain't always the old hand
that kin manage a fix of that sort. What war his partic'lar idea? Blest
ef I ain't mighty bothered."
"I'll tell yer. It war a case with him of kill or cure, as you'll agree
as I get on with the story. And he didn't come straight to me to ask
what I thought of the business. Joe war his name, and a kid chuck-full
of larnin'. Wall, seems he got rummagin' in the place whar his father
stored the stuff he traded with the Injuns, and then slips outer the
door.
"'Joe's gone out ter see what he kin do with 'em,' says Hal, his
brother, comin' across the shanty to where I was watchin'. 'Jest see you
don't shoot him.'
"Yer kin guess I was mighty surprised. 'Gone outside!' I cried. 'Why,
they'll shoot him quicker than ever I shall. What for? What's he
doin'?'"
"Hal hadn't a notion, and so, seein' as something precious bad might
come of it, I slipped out of the shanty to join him. And when I came to
the edge of the stockade whar we reckoned the Injuns was diggin', there
warn't a doubt that they was there, on the far side of the woodwork,
precious near ready to break through and finish the matter. Joe war
there, lyin' on his face, and sense I knew they'd hear me ef I even
whispered, I laid down beside him and learned what he was doin'. He was
diggin' fast with his fingers, tearin' the turf and soil away bit by
bit, and makin' not so much as a sound to give the enemy a warnin'.
Within four feet of him, perhaps, there was Injuns workin' at the same
game, cuttin' the earth away with their knives and tomahawks, and ef I
was asked to guess their true position, I should say as they were closer
even than that, and in a little while would be carving their way into
the hole which Joe war making.
"Two foot ahead of Joe there war a dark object, and when I crept across
to feel around it, and see what it was, you kin guess I jest started. It
war a powder keg, same as we carry, already opened, and ready for
firin'."
There was excitement now on the faces of the men gathered round the camp
fire. Excitement and some curiosity. For difficulty and danger were
everyday affairs to these scouts, and a tale which demonstrated the
cunning of the Indians, and the bravery and resource of those who were
opposed to this deadly enemy, was always sure of an attentive hearing.
Tom drew in a deep breath, while Steve grunted.
"Powder," he said, as if he were thinking deeply. "That war a
kill-or-cure remedy sure! Seems to me that ef you could be sartin of
gettin' the hull crowd of the Injuns close together, yer might kill a
heap and scare the rest so badly as to make 'em ride away. But ef yer
failed, why, it stands to reason yer would blow a hole through your
stockade big enough to allow a hull tribe of the critters to pass, and
might jest as well be askin' fer a funeral. Get along, Jacob. Yer make a
man want to be tellin' the story hisself, instead of waitin' fer you."
"It war a case of kill or cure," agreed the burly scout, ignoring
Steve's remarks, "but Joe warn't the boy to spoil his plan for a bit of
waitin'. He finished that hole while I lay thar, and popped in his keg
extry careful. Then he rammed the earth round it with his fists, laid
his fuse, and sat listenin'.
"'We'll wait till one of them strikes the keg with his knife,' he
whispered, fer the Injuns happened to be making a tidy heap of noise,
and so there warn't no fear of their hearin'. 'That'll be the time ter
fire it.'
"And jest yer remember to lie as flat as yer kin when yer put down the
match,' I answered. 'The explosion of that powder will smash the
stockade to pieces, and I ain't so sure as it won't wreck the shanty.'
"Wall, to come to the end of it, Joe waited there listenin' like a
terrier till there war the sharp click of a knife falling on the keg,
and a grunt from one of the Indians. That war enough for us. Joe and I
crept away from the place as quickly as we could, yer may guess, and lay
down agin at the far end of the trail, which was jest outside the
shanty. Then Joe lifted his pistol, laid the muzzle along the train, and
drew his trigger as steady as if he warn't shootin' nothin' in
partic'lar. Them critters was smashed to pieces. That is, eight or nine
of them was killed by the explosion."
A chorus of exclamations came from the assembled hunters. There was a
sparkle about their eyes which showed that they had listened to the
narrative with more than usual attention.
"Gee! That war a brave kid!" cried Seth. "A right down plucked 'un! What
happened? The hull stockade war blown to matchwood, one would guess, and
perhaps the shanty with it? Git on! Fer a slow 'un ye're as bad as any
I've ever met."
Jacob grinned. He was slow, and he knew it. At the same time he was far
too cool and burly an individual to be intimidated.
"I never was a hustler," he said, "and I'm too old now to begin. Ef
Seth, thar, Tricky Seth, as he's ginerally known, aer in a hurry, why,
I'll quit talkin', and he kin take the field. I'm always game to
listen."
"Get in at it, Jacob, man!" shouted Tom, shaking his fist at the hunter.
"That 'ere kid fired the trail with his pistol, and the keg of powder
blew the Injun varmint to pieces. Wall--"
"Wall, someone's asked about the stockade. It war broke into tiny
pieces. Joe and me was hoisted pretty nigh on to the roof of the
shanty, while the door of the place was shook clear off its hinges. Old
man Rivers, as was as mad as any hatter a minute before, was blowed back
to his proper senses. Leastwise, all I knows is that he was crazy afore
the explosion, and afterwards, when me and young Joe had picked
ourselves up, and had kinder cleared the dust and dirt away--fer we was
properly covered--Allen war smilin' all over, and talkin' to his wife as
ef he hadn't never been mad. And warn't he proud of that ere kid!"
"What about the Injuns?" demanded one of the listeners eagerly; for,
after all, the whole point in the narrative depended upon them. Scouts,
one and all, could appreciate a gallant if desperate action, fer they
were brave men themselves; but their interest, once the tale of daring
and courage on the part of their own race was told, was centred in the
common enemy, the Red Indian warrior, the fierce man of the plains who
had waged such ceaseless warfare with the white invaders of his
hunting-grounds, who had caused them such cruel losses, and who, because
of his terrible cruelty--because he killed not men alone, but women and
children--was detested by hunters and prospectors throughout the
country. It was the attackers Seth and his comrades longed to hear
about.
"They was blowed to pieces," said Steve. "Wall, what become of the rest?
There was more than eight or nine of the varmint."
"There was fifty, as we reckoned," said Jacob solemnly, "and they was
scared pretty nigh outer their lives. Hawk Eye, him that had caused the
whole ruction, rid off as ef there was powder kegs exploding under his
horse's heels all the way; and reckon they got back to the wigwams fewer
than when they left, and with a yarn to give that would make the squaws
howl at 'em. They was beat, mates, badly beat, and a slip of a boy did
it. Old man Rivers had come back to his senses properly, and guess he
set to at once to rig up his stockade again, and make all ready against
another attack. And ef he was a wise man--and I heard tell as his
madness didn't ever occur agin--he never afterwards made the mistake of
lettin' a red-skinned varmint look into his store. Them critters is
never to be trusted. Ef they find ye're rich, ye've kinder asked them to
come in the first time thar's an opportunity, and take yer scalp and
everything that's yours. Keep the varmint at arm's length is my motto;
or, better still, keep 'em always well ahead of your gun, and see as
ye've powder and ball handy."
The burly hunter subsided into silence, reached for the pannikin, and
poured himself out a helping of spirit. He filled up with water, tossed
his head back into characteristic position, and again the gurgle of
fluid was heard. For scouts were rough men; their manners were not of
the nicest.
As for his listeners, they began a very animated discussion as to the
merits of the yarn just narrated, and the incident of which Jacob had
been a witness recalled many another incident, totally unlike that
recorded by him, but nevertheless showing the courage and resource of
the white man and the determination of the common enemy. Then Steve
imposed silence upon the group by stirring the fire vigorously with his
boot and causing the sparks to fly upwards.
"Mates," he said in his dry-as-dust style, "mates, this here Jacob ha'
given us a yarn that kinder stirs a man, and we aer glad to hear as he
had a hand in beatin' them varmint. He was caught in a muss, so to say,
and, seein' he had rowed with his boss, and got lost on the plains, why,
seems he had hisself to blame. Still, ef he hadn't arrived at old man
Rivers's shanty, them critters would ha' broke in, fer Jacob shot down
the first as climbed the stockade. He came out of the muss nicely, and
now that he ha' told us, he has gone silent agin, same as he is
generally. But he ain't finished, not by a bit."
All looked across at the burly hunter. Jacob was filling his pipe in a
dogged sort of manner, and scowled at Steve as he finished speaking.
"Thar ain't no more," he growled; "leastwise, none that I'm goin' ter
tell. Besides, it's husky work talkin'. I've finished. Reckon it's time
we took to our blankets."
"Yer ain't said never a word about that 'ere kid that Hawk Eye stole
from the Rivers's," accused Steve, pointing a finger at Jacob.
"And I ain't goin' ter," came the short, sturdy answer. "I've done
talkin' fer the night. Time we was turnin' in."
There was a scowl on his face, and something more. The big scout,
usually so stolid and so transparently straightforward, looked confused
and almost ashamed of himself. He made a grimace at Steve, and commenced
to rise from his seat. But Tom put a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Steve aer the lad fer spottin' things," he laughed. "Let's have the
rest of the yarn."
"I ain't goin' ter talk no more," came the surly answer.
"Then I'll give the yarn, mates."
It was Bill Huskins who spoke, "Black Bill", as he was known, because of
his dark complexion. He was short and wiry, like Steve, a merry enough
fellow, but given to taciturnity and silence, as was customary with
scouts. He grinned across at Jacob, ignored his threatening gestures,
and then put himself into a position of ease, as if determined to tell
his tale, whatever happened.
"I war along with that 'ere boss as had the words with Jacob," he
announced, "and seein' as Jacob thar', ain't able ter speak, why, I'll
get in with the yarn. Thar's more to tell. A hull heap more. That 'ere
kid was took right off to Hawk Eye's wigwams, and it stands to reason
white folks wasn't goin' ter sit down and put up with sich a thing.
'Sides, Mrs. Rivers swore as she'd ride there all alone herself, ef
there wasn't a man ter do it. So in course we went, and here's what
happened."