Buckskin Mose

by George W. Perrie

  CHAPTER VIII.

  SCOUTING AND ITS RESULTS--CAUGHT NAPPING--FRANTIC WITH TERROR--"WHO HAVE BEEN TRIMMED SO NEATLY"--MY FAT FRIEND IN A PICKLE--PERSPIRATION AND BULLETS--THE REQUEST TO "SWAP" TREES--VIRTUE ITS OWN REWARD--HIGH TREASON TO UNCLE SAM--GOING OUT FOR GAME--AN UNPLEASANT MEETING--THE TUSSLE FOR LIFE--PUTTING AN END TO AN ORATION--"A TUFF 'UN."

  Orders were shortly after given to continue the ascent, and in asufficiently brief space of time, we had mounted above the belt of darkclouds, which were now drifting along the mountain-side beneath us, intoa fresh and warm sunshine.

  The revulsion in our feelings was almost instantaneous. Those who hadquaked before, were now inclined to jeer at their own fright. Lips thathad been whitened with terror were now actually laughing. Indeed, I muchdoubt whether he, whose involuntary audible piety had announced itsfeelings a few moments since, would have thanked any of us for remindinghim of the exclamation. Very certainly, none of us did. We had, at anyrate, the grace, not, in our present security, to scoff at the thanks inwhich we had so cordially although quietly participated.

  When we were thoroughly above the heavily wet mass of cloud, we pausedto rest and dry our clothing.

  Then, having examined our weapons and reloaded them, we continued ourprogress in the direction in which it was supposed the Indians were tobe found.

  Night at last overtook us, and orders were given for camping. After abrief sleep of some four hours, with Harry Arnold, Butch' Hasbrouck, andBrighton Bill, I started out to find the position of the Indians. Afterwe had moved in almost complete silence for a distance of some threemiles, the faint light of their camp-fires might be seen by us. TouchingButch' and Bill, I in a whisper ordered both of them to remain where wethen stood, and with Arnold crept quietly in the direction of the dyingembers. Here, in their presumed security, were slumbering the men whohad slain nearly the whole of Major Ormsby's party.

  As yet, we were unaware of this fact, and I had only the knowledge ofold Pete's death, and those of my other three companions, to square withthe red rascals, whether they had any hand in that affair or not.

  In consequence of this, I and Harry took a good survey of theirsituation, and, as noiselessly as we had approached it, returned to ourown camp, taking Butch' and Brighton Bill with us, on our way. There wespeedily aroused all the boys, and telling them we had spotted the game,bade them make ready. The night was clear and cold, although cloudyoverhead, and in five minutes more we were upon our way, with animperative injunction, upon my part, of perfect silence. This wasperhaps needless, as few of the Rangers or those who had volunteeredwith us were novices in Indian fighting.

  When I had, with Arnold, made my reconnoissance, we had thoroughlyexamined the position of the Indian camp. It was placed upon the summitof a precipice some two hundred and fifty feet in height, which beetledover a cleft or ravine in the mountain of considerable width.

  On the side which we had approached it, it had been entirely unguarded.

  Had it not been for their defeat of the large party under Major Ormsbyon the preceding day, they would, even in such a position, scarcely haveneglected to keep a watch.

  However, now, from our side of the mountain, they had not any suspicionof the possibility of an attack.

  But, although unable to count their positive number, Harry Arnold andmyself had seen that they were exceedingly numerous; at the very least,six or seven times outnumbering our own party. It was, therefore, amatter of absolute necessity for us, even in taking them by surprise, tosecure every possible advantage of position, in order to counterbalancethis disproportion. To the left of the camp, in the rear of the plateauoccupied by the slumbering red men, the ground rose more precipitouslythan it did on the side from which, some three hours earlier, weapproached them. A portion of the boys, under the command of Arnold, wastherefore detailed to this spot, while the remainder crouched undercover where it, at the time, was.

  After this we waited impatiently for the rapidly coming dawn. This was anecessity, that we might have sufficient light to catch the sights ofour rifles. We dared not throw away a single shot.

  A long red streak, like a band of flame, colored the eastern horizonwhen the Indians began to stir. The first of the unconscious savages hadrisen to his feet, when my order rung out sharp and clear:

  "Fire!"

  The red-skin fell, and in an instant all was terror and confusion in thedoomed camp.

  Startled and confused by the sudden volley which was delivered withslaughterously fatal precision, the scarcely awakened red-skins leapt totheir feet. Then came a volley from the party of Rangers with HarryArnold. It was followed by another from mine. I had taken the precautionof ordering every other man to fire with each discharge, so as to givethe preceding marksmen time to reload. Like clock-work rang out ourdeadly rifles, each shot dropping a man.

  Fright had almost maddened the Indians, from the first intimation we hadgiven them of our presence. Some ran from side to side of the plateau,looking vainly for a chance to escape. Others attempted to scale thedeclivity on which my portion of the boys were posted, and the rocksabove which Harry held his position, in the very face of our fire. A fewstood and endeavored to return us what we were giving them. However,they were considerably below either party; consequently, their shotsrattled on the rocky sides of either slope short of us.

  Again and again our untiring volleys rang out on the no longer quietdawn.

  Then, actually frantic with terror, many of the doomed savages leaptfrom the brink of the precipice. Others contrived to scramble over thebroken edge of it, on the precarious and jutting portions of which theywould scarcely, even in mid-day, under other circumstances, havetrodden. In less than probably ten minutes from our first fire, not aliving Indian remained in the camp where they had lately been sleeping.On examining this--for it would have been useless and, perhaps,dangerous for us to follow the runaways--we found enough to convince usthat the white men had lately been severely punished. Scalps,shot-pouches, and carbines, with other tokens, were hurriedly leftbehind in their flight, to testify to this.

  "We were not quick enough after the red devils, Mose!"

  Arnold said this, as, with a positively qualmish sensation in my throat,I was standing upon that stony stretch of level ground which was nowreekingly slippery with blood.

  "We had better leave at once for the place where our horses are."

  "I'd like to know who the whites were the darned scoundrels have trimmedso neatly?"

  While saying this, he was meditatively turning over two scalps which layon the gore-stained rock, beside a motionless red-skin, now as scalplessas the bodies from which he had taken them.

  "P'raps," ejaculated Brighton Bill, whose feelings had in the last fewyears marvellously changed in regard to the legitimate manner offighting the red-skins, "they be some o' Hormsby's chaps."

  "Nonsense!" exclaimed Harry.

  "Bill!" I said, "do you think the Major would have been such an idiot asto get trapped by the red skunks?"

  "Why not? 'E mightn't be h'as thundering cute as you h'are, Cap!"

  Unfortunately, as we soon discovered, my English friend was right in hissupposition.

  The sun had just risen when we started on our return, and before wereached the place where we had picketed our horses under guard thepreceding day, we fell in with two of the survivors of the ill-fatedparty, and learned from them the details of the massacre, for which wehad unwittingly just taken so large and wholesale a vengeance. Thisinformation completely obliterated every trace of compunction, for themorning's even more wholesale slaughter, which I had previously felt.

  Crossing over to the south side of Honey Lake Valley, we followed it upto Captain Bird's old ranche.

  After passing it, we found every house and farm empty and stripped ofall that was in any way portable. The whole of the stock had also beendriven off. But for the tramp of our hoofs, this portion of the valleywould have been as silent as a desert.

  "I'd say, Cap
!" exclaimed Butch', "the cuss'd red devils had been here,too--only there are no dead men, laying round promisc'ous like."

  Upon reaching Epstine's Ranche, we discovered the meaning of this. Theowner, Joe, here informed us, the news of Ormsby's death, and that ofmost of the men with him, had reached the upper end of the valley on theday before. A complete terror had seized upon the whole of those thendwelling in it, and a general stampede had taken place amongst them forDr. Slater's Ranche, above what is now the town of Janesville.

  "Howev'r I guess'd I'd wait a bit, and see what turn'd up."

  He was fingering his rifle, as he made the last observation. But onreceiving the information of our retaliation his face brightened, and hegave utterance to a guttural exclamation of fierce and somewhatblasphemous delight, to which it will be needless for the pen to dojustice.

  On arriving at the ranche where he had told us his brother settlers hadtaken refuge, we found the men hard at work building a regular stockadearound a cabin, which had the year previous been erected for the doublepurpose of a school-house and Masonic Hall. In spite of the joy withwhich our intelligence was received, they did not however desist fromtheir labors. And, possibly, they were right, as the Indian troublescontinued, and though the savages refrained from positively besiegingthe stockade while the Buckskin Rangers were around, they on one or twooccasions ran off large quantities of the stock.

  During the remainder of the season, we were occupied in a continuousscouting through this entire section of the country.

  It was during one of our expeditions that Tom Harvey, one of us, was thesubject of a good joke.

  Human nature, in whatever situation it may be placed, has always aludicrous side. Commonly, indeed, humor would almost appear to be thetwin-sister of sorrow. They would, indeed, seem to walk through life,leaning upon each other, and hand in hand, to the very edge of thegrave. The marvellous creations of Shakespeare's genius partakewell-nigh equally of Tragedy and Comedy. Even so was it with theBuckskin Rangers, and their leader may be pardoned if he presumes torecall one of those creations (without the remotest hope of rivallingthe intellect he has just called attention to) with the view ofjustifying himself.

  "Falstaff" was most undeniably, as he has been drawn by the greatdramatist, a fat man. Wherever fat can be found, the spirit of Funalmost invariably selects it as the subject or perpetrator of a joke.Now Tom was a man of enormous dimensions, if not in length, verycertainly in width. Brighton Bill once said of him, that:

  "Hif 'e was 'ammered hout, 'e would be long henough to reach the Nor'Pole, hand find Sir John Franklin."

  If he had not been slenderer than Tom, I think his scalp, the momentafter Bill had uttered this observation, might very possibly have beenin the possession of Harvey.

  However, this is a digression.

  On one of our numerous scouts we had left our horses, guarded as usual,and were passing up a small valley, covered with a scattering growth ofdiminutive and remarkably lean trees, when some Indians, concealed in asmall grove immediately in front of us, pulled trigger. Luckily theirfire drew no blood. But, as in such cases, it is natural for him who isthe subject of such an unexpected attention to jump behind anythingwhich may be at hand, to shelter himself, we, each of us, made for thelargest and nearest tree. None of them were sufficiently broad to makeany of us a tolerably good cover.

  In this situation, Tom also made for a tree.

  Its exaggeratedly narrow trunk, merely concealed his head and the centreof his prodigious frame. Butch', who was nearest to him, could not helpcrying out.

  "Look out, Fattee, or we shall only have the middle of yer left."

  "Hold your darned tongue, you infernal fool!" roared out Harvey.

  While saying this he had dodged to the one side of the tree, to escapean arrow which whistled by the other. With commendable judgment, he lostno time in leaping to the side he had left. This exertion of agilitysaved him from a bullet.

  Butch' had drawn a bead on the head of the red-skin who had fired thelast, and with a yell of agony, he toppled over, struck by the Ranger'sunerring ball.

  "I forgive you, old boy," panted out Tom, as he leapt back once more.

  "'I forgive you, old boy!' panted out Tom, as he leaptback once more."--_Page 119._]

  This time he was scarcely quick enough, as another ball passed throughthe flying portion of his Buckskin upper garment.

  "Why don't yer hide yer fat carcass," sung out Butch' in fierce wrath.There was no more time for jesting. "If yer don't, we shall have to buryyer."

  "How can I?"

  As the perspiring Harvey screeched out this amidst a general chorus oflaughter, he took another wild leap, which was not one bit too soon.

  All this had taken place in considerably less time than I have occupiedin recounting it, or I fear all would have been up with the too fat Tom.The tree which I had been fortunate enough to secure was a fairly largepine. From behind it, I had the luck of picking off an incautiousred-skin, and was already sighting another, when I heard our fatcompanion's voice. He had (how he dared to look round, I never knew)moaned or rather barked out, in a plaintive way:

  "For God's sake, Mose! swap trees with me."

  The irrepressible scream of laughter with which this pathetic appeal wasreceived by me, caused my shot to be useless. It missed the Pah-ute Iwas aiming at.

  Temporary inability on the part of our boys, from the painfully absurdposition of Harvey, to maintain a continuous fire, now induced thered-skins to show themselves more boldly. They quickly found the mistakethey had made in doing so. A general although scattering volleystretched a third of them upon the earth. They then evidently changedtheir opinion, and once more getting under cover, rapidly scattered.

  We pursued them a short way, when we were overtaken by the remainder ofour party, which we had left in charge of our animals.

  Remounting them, we again started in pursuit. The red rascals had met,however, with too warm a reception to wait for any further attention atour hands. They had cleared out, and made good their escape across themountains.

  For many days the luckless Harvey did not hear the last of his offer "toswap trees" with me. At length, I, who had refrained from cutting any ofthe tolerably coarse witticisms which were uttered at his expense, wasobliged to remonstrate warmly with Butch' and Brighton Bill.

  "Yer are right, Cap!" exclaimed the former. "But I sware, it war toogood a joke."

  "Wouldn't it be better to split 'im down, and splice 'is two hends?"

  As Bill said this they both burst into a peal of laughter, loud enoughto be called Homeric, by any but a backwoodsman. They were, however, twogood fellows, for they spoke to the other Rangers, and after this, fatTom Harvey was left in peace. How he discovered the hand, I had, ineasing him off, it would be impossible to say, as I never knew. But sometwo days afterwards he came up to me and Harry Arnold, as we were ridingalong slightly in advance, and said:

  "Mose! you're a darned good fellow, and I'll be blamed if I ever forgetit."

  "What do you mean, Tom?"

  "For stopping the chin-music of them fellows. What on airth else,should I mean?"

  At the same time, he jerked his thumb across his shoulder in thedirection of the rest of the party, who were at some little distance inour rear, very significantly.

  "You see, Cap!" exclaimed Harry with a slight chuckle, "what thecopy-book tells us, is right, after all."

  "What are you driving at?"

  "It says, Virtue is its own reward."

  We had retraced our steps, passing Eagle Lake into Willow Creek Valley,on the far side of the range of hills which divide it from Honey Lake,until we arrived at the stockade built by the settlers, which hasearlier been alluded to.

  A few days subsequently, we struck into Long Valley, and having crossedPea-vine Mountains, reached the Truckee River. Here we encamped, and onthe next morning, following it for some distance, struck across thehills, towards the Sink of the Carson River. Passing this stream belowFort Churchill, we co
ntinued in a southerly direction until we came tothe Walker River. Near it, we had a little brush with the WalkerIndians, which did not detain us very long. During this, one of our boysreceived a slight flesh wound from an arrow. Why these red-skins havereceived this name is matter of question, as they are certainly a branchof the Pah-ute tribe. However, it had been given the savages in thissmall portion of the country, and while I was living in that section, ofwhich it forms part, it stuck to them.

  On the west fork of Walker River, we were met by a company of UnitedStates cavalry.

  The officer in command inquired for our leader, and I presented myself.

  He behaved very courteously in manner, although his orders, given to mewith a degree of imperative sharpness, which was scarcely as courteousin reality, were by no means agreeable. His instructions were to makepeace with the Indians, and he commanded us to return homewards. If wewould not desist from our present employment, he told us, he should beobliged to arrest us and take us down to Fort Churchill. Theseperemptory orders were unpalatable to the last degree. But what could bedone. He was Uncle Sam's servant in blue-coat, brass buttons, andshoulder-straps. We were children of the aforesaid Uncle Sam.

  Like obedient boys, although most unwillingly, we concluded, after abrief hesitation, to bend our steps homewards.

  With a cordial grasp of the hand--for, on finding we had so franklyaccepted the compulsory situation, the officer unbent himselfconsiderably--I bade him "Farewell," and we silently, for some time,rode along the course of the stream. The first words I heardsubsequently, were some ten minutes after this. They came from the lipsof Brighton Bill.

  "Huncle Sam his nothing but a blasted hidiot."

  Possibly, I might have been valuing some of his servants at much thesame weight, but I was too good an American to stand such an expressionof opinion from a Britisher. Turning in my saddle, I roared out:

  "None of that. It's high treason. I'll be hanged if I haven't half amind to ride after the blue-coats, and hand you over to them."

  When I said this, there was a general laugh, and the whole of usrecovered, in some measure, our good humor.

  After continuing about twenty miles along the road the soldiers had justtraversed, we encamped about two o'clock in the afternoon, turning ourhorses out to graze, as there was good pasture in the neighborhood.Portion of the boys commenced cooking. Butch', having a somewhat moredainty tooth in his head on this occasion than usual, felt it crave forfresh meat, and said to me:

  "'Spose I go out, and kill yer something to eat."

  "All right," was my answer. "You may find a Jack or two," meaning a Jackrabbit, "down the valley. I'll go up the canyon, and see whether I can'tfind some grouse."

  Saying this, I had pointed to a small canyon on one side, stretchingirregularly from the vicinity of our camping ground. At the sameinstant, Brighton Bill, who had been stretched on the cool turf with hiseyes closed, leapt to his feet.

  "You're hawful smart, hain't you, Mose? Hi'll 'ave some hof that funmyself. If hi don't, blow me."

  He, however, thought fit to try another canyon to the left.

  For the first time since I had been an inhabitant of the Plains, Ineglected to arm myself, as I had constantly been accustomed to, whenscouting. The good servants of Uncle Sam, whom we had met earlier in theday, had travelled up the road. Of course they had sharp eyes. Besides,if the red-skins had seen them, they would certainly have got out oftheir way as quickly as possible. How should they know our Uncle wantedto be theirs, too? Peace would be the very last thing they thought of,when they set eyes upon his uniform. So, thinking there could be nodanger, I placed my sheath-knife in my belt, and taking my Kentuckyrifle with me, started.

  Walking carelessly up the canyon, now examining the trees for game, thenscaling the declivity to the right, or pushing through the chapparal andthe heavy timber, I had wandered on, for more than an hour.

  Suddenly, in one of the thick and tangled clumps of chapparal, I fanciedI heard the familiar note of one of the birds I was in search of. Atonce, I stopped to listen.

  While standing there silent and motionless, it could scarcely have beenmore than fifty seconds, I heard a noise almost immediately behind.Instinct or experience, one or both, told me what that sound was. Thered-skins had not been so scared by the advance of Uncle Sam's servants,as necessarily to refrain from a dash for one of his children, if thechance was given them. I felt the chance was now.

  Turning immediately, I had barely time to see two Indians.

  In another instant, before I could lift my gun to my shoulder, one ofthem had bounded towards me and wrenched it from my grasp, while theother sprung at me with the evident intention of clinching me. If I hadthen the time to think, I fear, loyal American as I might be, mythoughts might have corroborated Brighton Bill's opinions touching thesanity of Uncle Sam. Fortunately, I had no time to become criticallydisloyal. My hunting-knife had been drawn, and at the very moment whenhis hot and vindictively fierce breath came searingly to my face, wasburied to the very hilt in his heart.

  As he fell, the other of my assailants, with my own rifle clubbed,struck me a heavy blow upon the shoulder. It nearly felled me to theearth.

  Then, dropping the weapon, he sprang upon me, making a desperate clutchfor the hand in which my knife was grasped. As he seized my wrist, Ithrew the knife from me as far as I could, and grappled with him. Heattempted to draw his own. I, however, had grasped him by a peculiarlytender portion of his person, which modesty prevents me from naming. Thepain of this prevented his using his knife, and in the contest we bothfell on the sloping side of the canyon, clinched together firmly.

  Now, commenced the struggle for life.

  Rolling over and over, now on the short turf, and again amidst the denseand tangled chapparal--at one moment the red-skin would be above me, andin the next I would be stretched on his writhing body. Whenever I gotthe chance, and one of my hands free, I would seize a handful of sand,if it was within reach, and thrust it in the mouth and eyes of theIndian.

  He was not slow in taking the lesson I gave him. He began to followsuit.

  After rolling down the side of the canyon for some hundred yards or more,panting with the desperate struggle, he opened his mouth to gasp forbreath. At the time I was above him, and grasping a handful of sand, Iforced it into his gaping mouth.

  "He opened his mouth to gasp for breath; I was above him,and grasping a handful of sand, I forced it into his gapingmouth."--_Page 125._]

  It had its effect. Literally choking with the enforced dose, he loosenedme. At the same time, he violently threw up his hands, as a man might doin the agony of strangulation.

  Then, with a supreme effort, I groped for his knife. Having found it, Idrew it from its sheath, and, at last, the terrible struggle which hadbeen forced upon me was over.

  When, at occasional times, I recall it now, it seems to my recollectionas if that brief contest for existence had nearly maddened me. Scarcelydid I appear to possess consciousness of any of my actions. And yet, Iknow that I inflicted on him some fifteen to twenty wounds, any one ofwhich might or must have been a fatal one.

  As I found myself once more upon my feet, it was a tolerably difficultmatter for me to realize that I was still living.

  While engaged in attempting to do so, the whole landscape seemed toquiver vaguely under my fading eyes. Its lines and colors fairly dancedbefore me. I felt that I was falling, and everything around settled intoa dense blackness.

  I knew no more.

  On, after some time, recovering my senses, I found that I was lying bythe side of the Indian, literally drenched with the blood flowing fromhis wounds. Sitting up, after a few minutes, I was enabled to recall mylagging senses and realize the struggle I had gone through. Yes! thereit lay, stark and motionless in the shadow thrown across it from therocky side of the canyon, by the sun which was now far beneath it. As forthe corpse beside me, it was stabbed and hacked in a frightful manner.But for the fearful strife I had been engaged in with it, when
living,and the danger I had, as it seemed to me, so unaccountably escaped, Ishould positively have sickened at the sight. The memory of this strungmy nerves once more to endurance, although my garments were drippingwith its blood, and absolutely soaked through with my own sweat.

  Staggering to my feet, I re-collected my senses, which had, for a shortspace, again wandered. Then, with some difficulty, I again ascended therough hill, until I reached the space on which the first Indian, I hadmade an end of, was lying. His teeth were forced together--his eyesstaring unconsciously up to the blue sky. My knife was at some distancefrom the spot. The rifle was close to him. Its barrel was bent and itsstock broken with the heavy blow I had received.

  Let me squarely own that never, either before or since, have I raisedthe hair of any Indian, with a more secure feeling of angry joy than Ifelt in taking those two scalps.

  I had now to return.

  The position of the sun, low beneath the western summit of the canyon,testified to the fact that some two hours must have elapsed since thetwo Pah-utes had leapt upon me.

  Slowly, and with great difficulty, I commenced my way towards the camp.While looking on the scene of my danger, I had been kept up by theremains of the excitement I had experienced. I had felt no pain, andbeen unconscious of fatigue. Now, my dead enemies lay unconsciously onthe earth. The exhaustion consequent on my fierce struggle for life, andthe suffering from the blow upon my shoulder, became apparent to me.Scarcely, was I able to walk. Frequently was I obliged to lean on ajutting boulder of rock, or steady myself for a minute or two againstthe trunk of a tree, before I could again persistently renew myprogress. Not yet had I reached the mouth of the canyon, when some ofthe boys met me.

  It seemed that Butch' and Brighton Bill had long since returned, and,although scarcely alarmed, had grown in some slight degree uneasy at mynot putting in an appearance. Consequently, with some of the others,they had come out to seek for me.

  No sooner was I seen by them, than they shouted out to me. My lipsstrove to frame a shout in reply. But even to myself, my voice sounded along way off. It was so faint and low that they did not hear a word.

  Rushing towards me, Bill cried out:

  "What his the matter, Mose?"

  Butch' demanded:

  "Have yer got any game?"

  The only answer I could give them was to hold out the two scalps I hadtaken.

  Startled by this and my struggling silence, for they knew I wasattempting to speak, they looked at my dress, and in spite of the fadinglight, saw its torn and dilapidated condition, and the blood with whichit was smeared and streaked almost in every part. Bill gave a groan, andsaid:

  "Get Mose to the camp, Butch'! Hi'll go hand look hafter 'is rifle,before some hother thieving Hingin cusses find hit."

  In an another instant Ben Painter had lifted me, and throwing me, gentlyenough, although it caused me frightful suffering in my shoulder, acrosshis own, strode down the canyon. Indeed, so great was the pain from themerciless blow I had received, that I remember little beside it, until Ifound myself sitting on the ground, leaning against Painter's knee. Thewhole of the upper portion of my dress had been stripped off, whileButch' was bathing the black and swollen flesh which had been struckwith the clubbed rifle. How it happened that no bones were broken by it,is, even now, a marvel to me.

  When they found me again able to speak, the boys began to ply me withquestions. But while I was answering them, Brighton Bill appeared on thescene.

  His search of the ground on which I had run such a risk of beingcompletely chawed up, must have been a pretty thorough one. He broughtin, not only two rifles, but two United States blankets, severalunopened boxes of caps, two cans of powder, and, in addition to these, asmall keg of Uncle Sam's whiskey. This had already been opened, and maypossibly account for the red rascals having forgotten the reason forwhich they had so liberally partaken of his bounty.

  The whiskey was a veritable God-send, for we were out of the article. Atincupful (this time I did not ask for a second before eating) did moreto put me to rights, and enable me to forget my pain, than the carewhich the Rangers had been bestowing on me.

  "If ever there was a good Samaritan, Bill, you are one."

  Let me here record the fact that Bill knew nothing about Samaritans, forgood or evil. Nor, indeed, am I inclined to think, had any of the othersa very correct idea of my meaning. Even the teaching of a New EnglandSunday-school had been forgotten, as I deeply regret being obliged tosay one of the boys hailed from the classically Methodist locality ofNew Bedford.

  But, if Brighton Bill was not well versed in Scripture, he displayedhimself this evening in a new light--that of an orator. No sooner had heserved round the whiskey which he had captured from the alreadyslaughtered enemy, than he produced from one of the blankets in which hehad wrapped it, my twisted and broken rifle.

  "Jist look 'ere, boys," he said, "hat the popper of hour Cap. This h'isthe harticle with which 'e smashed ha couple of Hingins. Hi'm blowedh'if you didn't, Mose! H'it's no huse 'iding your light hunder a bushel,when H'i 'ave the hevidence in my hown 'and, and show hit." Here Iendeavored to put in a word, but it was drowned in the general applause,and seizing on the instant of its cessation, he continued: "H'if you 'adonly seen those blarsted Hingins. Wun of 'em stood seven an a 'alf foot'igh in 'is stocking-feet, and the h'other--"

  I could no longer refrain, but cried out:

  "It's quite clear who tapped the whiskey keg, before we had a chance oflooking at it."

  The Britisher gazed in pathetic wonder on his partially maimed leader,as he heard this ungenerous insinuation against his sobriety. Then witha sadly melancholy smile, he said:

  "H'i forgive you, Cap! But, may H'i be blamed if you harn't a tuff 'un."

  That night, guard being kept by Butch' and Ben Painter, I slept well andsoundly. On the next morning I was up by daylight, and we returned toHoney Lake through Carson City.

  When we arrived there it was to hear that another treaty had actuallybeen made with the Indians. Once more they were to be allowed tore-enter the valley. The settlers were to resume possession of theirranches, and what stock was left on them, or could be found. How long itwould continue, the Devil and the red men themselves, only, could forman opinion.