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
"Yer lie, yer red devil!" Then turning to me, he said: "Mose! as sure as
God's in Heaven, that 'ere cuss has had a hand in killing Wright, for
sartin. I reckon we'd jist better go over to Pabla, and look arter his
party. Not, Cap! as I wants to dictate to yer. Only knowing as how the
Gineral was a real friend of your'n, I thought, perhaps--"
"Thought!" I cried out, "Dow, when you know you are right."
"I'm dead sartin of it," he muttered between his teeth.
The aged Pah-ute had, while this was passing, been regarding me with
that stoical indifference of feature which is so characteristic of the
red man. Looking fixedly at him, I said:
"If you were not an old fellow, I would at once kill you. But if
anything has gone wrong with the General or his party, see that you
never again allow yourself to come within sight of me."
Immediately after this, we started for Summit Lake, and passing it, went
down the cañon as far as the Puabla. On the following day about noon, we
came to a cabin which had very evidently been occupied by Wright and his
companions. It was now empty. The small cañon in which this rough cabin
stood was filled with cottonwood trees and a dense growth of small
underbrush. As we were examining the place, I came upon the first
fragmentary testimony of the dark tragedy which had branded this spot
with an ineffaceable stain. This was the leg of a man, which had been
hewn off just below the knee. While I was yet looking at it, Arnold
called out in a tremulously hollow voice, which at once indicated from
how intensely nervous an agitation he must be suffering:
"Come here, Mose."
He was but a short distance in advance of me; and when I arrived where
he was standing, let me own that I frankly regretted not having cut the
throat of the wrinkled old ruffian whose possession of the General's
pipe had placed me on the track of this most dastardly and savage
murder--aye! and the throats of all the squaws who were with him, too.
Had I not, in my own person, had a sufficient experience of the
gentleness of these she-devils? Could I doubt that it had been also
displayed in the atrocious massacre of General Wright and the
unfortunate men who had accompanied him?
I shall, of course, be asked for the full particulars of this ferocious
butchery. Let me be as brief as I can in penning the details, which
almost sicken me while I recall them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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