The Scalp Hunters Part 38

"Hooraw! Ye war safe then, old hoss."

"I tuk a lot o' stones, an' then clomb up on the pen, an' killed the hul kit on 'em. Lord, boyees! 'ee never seed sich a snappin', and snarlin', and jumpin', an' yowltin', as when I peppered them donicks down on 'em.

He! he! he! Ho! ho! hoo!"

And the smoky old sinner chuckled with delight at the remembrance of his adventure.

"You reached Bent's then safe enough, I reckin?"

"'Ee--es. I skinned the critters wi' a sharp stone, an' made me a sort o' s.h.i.+rt an' leggins. This niggur had no mind, comin' in naked, to gi'

them thur joke at the Fort. I packed enough of the wolf-meat to last me up, an' I got there in less'n a week. Bill wur thur himself, an' 'ee all know Bill Bent. He know'd me. I wa'n't in the Fort a half an hour till I were spick-span in new buckskins, wi' a new rifle; an' that rifle wur Tar-guts, now afore ye."

"Ha! you got Tear-guts thar then?"

"I got Tar-guts thur then, an' a gun she ur. He! he! he! 'Twa'n't long arter I got her till I tried her. He! he! he! Ho! ho! hoo!"

And the old trapper went off into another fit of chuckling.

"What are ye laughin' at now, Rube?" asked one of his comrades.

"He! he! he! What am I larfin' at? He! he! he! Ho! ho! That ur the crisp o' the joke. He! he! he! What am I larfin' at?"

"Yes; tell us, man!"

"It are this then I'm larfin' at," replied Rube, sobering down a little, "I wa'n't at Bent's three days when who do 'ee think shed k.u.m to the Fort?"

"Who? Maybe the Rapahoes!"

"Them same Injuns; an' the very niggurs as set me afoot. They k.u.m to the Fort to trade wi' Bill, an' thur I sees both my old mar an' rifle!"

"You got them back then?"

"That wur likely. Thur wur a sight o' mountainy men thur, at the time, that wa'n't the fellurs to see this child put down on the parairar for nuthin'. Yander's the critter!" and Rube pointed to the old mare. "The rifle I gin to Bill, an' kep Tar-guts instead, seeing she wur a better gun."

"So you got square with the Rapahoes?"

"That, young fellur, justs rests on what 'ee 'ud call squar. Do 'ee see these hyur nicks: them standin' sep'rate?"

And the trapper pointed to a row of small notches cut in the stock of his rifle.

"Ay, ay!" cried several men in reply. "Thur's five o' 'em, ain't thur?"

"One, two, three; yes, five."

"Them's Rapahoes!"

Rube's story was ended.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

BLINDING THE PURSUER.

By this time the men had finished eating, and now began to gather around Seguin, for the purpose of deliberating on what course we should pursue.

One had already been sent up to the rocks to act as a vidette, and warn us in case any of the Indians should be descried upon the prairie.

We all felt that we were still in a dilemma. The Navajo was our captive, and his men would come to seek for him. He was too important a personage (second chief of the nation) to be abandoned without a search, and his own followers, nearly half of the tribe, would certainly be back to the spring. Not finding him there, should they not discover our tracks, they would return upon the war-trail to their country.

This, we all saw, would render our expedition impracticable, as Dacoma's band alone outnumbered us; and should we meet them in their mountain fastnesses, we should have no chance of escape.

For some time Seguin remained silent, with his eyes fixed on the ground.

He was evidently tracing out in his mind some plan of action. None of the hunters chose to interrupt him.

"Comrades!" said he at length, "this is an unfortunate _coup_, but it could not be avoided. It is well it is no worse. As it is, we must alter our plans. They will be sure to return on his track, and follow their own trail back to the Navajo towns. What then? Our band cannot either come on to the Pinon or cross the war-trail at any point. They would discover our tracks to a certainty."

"Why, can't we go straight up to whar the rest's cached, and then take round by the old mine? That won't interfere with the war-trail nohow."

This was proposed by one of the hunters. "Vaya!" rejoined a Mexican; "we should meet the Navajoes just when we had got to their town!

Carrai! that would never do, amigo. There wouldn't many, of us get back again. Santisima! No."

"We ain't obleeged to meet them," argued the first speaker. "They're not a-goin' to stop at thur town when they find the n.i.g.g.e.r hain't been back."

"It is true," said Seguin, "they will not remain there. They will doubtless return on the war-trail again; but I know the country by the mine."

"So do I! So do I!" cried several voices. "There is no game,"

continued Seguin. "We have no provisions; it is therefore impossible for us to go that way."

"We couldn't go it, nohow."

"We should starve before we had got through the Mimbres."

"Thar's no water that way."

"No, by gos.h.!.+ not enough to make a drink for a sand-rat."

"We must take our chances, then," said Seguin. Here he paused thoughtfully, and with a gloomy expression of countenance.

"We must cross the trail," he continued, "and go by the Prieto, or abandon the expedition."

The word "Prieto," in opposition to the phrase "abandon the expedition,"

put the hunters to their wits' end for invention, and plan after plan was proposed; all, however, ending in the probability--in fact, certainty--that if adopted, our trail would be discovered by the enemy, and followed up before we could escape back to the Del Norte. They were, therefore, one after another rejected.

During all this discussion, old Rube had not said a word. The earless trapper was sitting upon the prairie, squat on his hams, tracing out some lines with his bow, and apparently laying out the plan of a fortification.

"What are ye doin', old hoss?" inquired one of his comrades.

"My hearin' ain't as good as 'twur afore I kim into this cussed country; but I thought I heerd some o' 'ees say, jest now, we cudn't cross the 'Pash trail 'ithout bein' followed in two days. That's a dod-rotted lie. It are."

"How are ye goin' to prove it, hoss?"