Buckskin Mose: Or, Life From the Lakes to the Pacific, as Actor, Circus-Rider, Detective, Ranger, Gold-Digger, Indian Scout, and Guide.Perrie, George W.
History
Buckskin Mose: Or, Life From the Lakes to the Pacific, as Actor, Circus-Rider, Detective, Ranger, Gold-Digger, Indian Scout, and Guide.
Perrie, George W.
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Latter Day Saints -- Fiction; Western stories
Remaining upon my knee, I drew my knife, and listened. There was,
evidently, only one who had disbelieved what Clo-ke-ta might have said.
Possibly, although this is very unlikely, one only may have been
awakened by her wail.
Had there been more than the one, I might have used my revolver, for the
purpose of alarming the boys. If I had done so, it must have brought out
the rest of the red devils. We had need of time for consultation. Could
I get rid of my pursuer, without giving him the chance for one dying
whoop, we should, at least, have this.
A clump of sage-brush would have hidden me from the rapidly approaching
Indian, even had the dawn been already breaking.
He could only have fancied he heard my stealthy flight, as I knew I
heard his rapidly approaching tread.
Now he was close to the sage-brush, behind which I was kneeling. An
instant after, a dark figure, relieved against the comparatively lighter
sky, is passing it. His limbs nearly touch me.
One leap, like that of a wild-cat, has fastened me upon him.
Fortunately my left hand has clutched him by the throat. He struggles
desperately, and attempts to shout. My knife was, however, ready.
In less than half a minute, all was over.
When I re-climbed the knoll, I found the boys already stirring. The
wailing cry of Clo-ke-ta had aroused Arnold, who, finding me absent, had
awakened the rest. Jennings could tell them nothing of my absence.
Brighton Bill had proposed to Harry a search for me. The latter,
however, saw that until the morning had broken, any such search must be
worse than useless.
"And here are Mose, by Heaven!" ejaculated Jennings.
He rounded off his sentence with a fearful oath of delight, as by the
light of the camp-fire, which had been heaped with fresh brush, he was
the first to recognize me. Without a word, I was trampling out the
flame, in which attempt I was assisted by Bill, who had a profound faith
in my sagacity, and would, I firmly believe, have lent me a hand in
cutting Harry Arnold's throat, had I thought proper to do so. When the
affair had been accomplished, he would probably have inquired my reason
for such a bloody proceeding, but not until then.
"What on airth! are yer about?" roared Stanaford. "Can't yer leave the
fire alone?"
"Mose must have a sufficient reason," said Arnold. "Wait 'till he tells
it to you."
"Hingins!" was Bill's suggestive explanation.
"Wall! aren't we enough for 'em?"
"Scarcely!" I answered. Then I added, as I trampled out the last burning
embers with my heel, "they are all around us."
"How many?" inquired Arnold.
"I cannot tell, yet," was my reply, given with what, could it have been
seen by him, was a grim smile. "Probably, some two hundred and fifty."
"Yer can't mean it!" exclaimed Jennings.
"Boys!" I then said, "we are in the tightest fix I have yet been in.
They are Bannocks, and the Bannocks will fight, as you all know."
"How do you know what they are?" inquired Arnold.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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