In the Rocky MountainsKingston, William Henry Giles
General
In the Rocky Mountains
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Rocky Mountains -- Fiction
Maysotta, hearing us talking, stopped, and putting her finger to her
lips, made us understand that we must be silent. She then moved forward
again, at a slower pace, keeping close in front of us. After going a
little farther, I observed the faint glare of a fire reflected on the
loftier boughs of the trees. As we advanced it grew brighter and
brighter, some of the rays penetrating even through the bushes which
concealed the fire itself.
Maysotta now touched my arm, and pointing to the fallen trunk of a tree,
observed, "Creep up there, and you will ascertain whether those are the
people you are in search of."
We cautiously made our way towards the point indicated; but even before
we could lift our heads to look over the fallen trunk, the sound of
Barney Gillooly's jovial voice reached our ears, accompanied by Klitz's
guttural notes.
The lieutenant was about to spring over the trunk and seize hold of the
deserters at once, but I held him back.
"Let us see what the fellows are about," I whispered; and we crept
closer, keeping ourselves concealed by the bushes.
Gillooly and Klitz were seated on the ground opposite each other, with
the fire between them. The Irishman was holding up a piece of venison,
which he had just cooked, at the end of a stick, while Klitz held
another piece to the fire.
"Arrah! now, this illigint piece of meat will be enough to last us until
we stop again for the night!" exclaimed Gillooly. "I'll race you now,
and see who can get his whack down the fastest. If I win, you must hand
over to me what remains of yours; and if you win, you shall have the
remainder of my whack."
"Dat would not be fair," answered Klitz. "You got big mout and short
body, and can stow away much faster dan I. You eat your breakfast as
fast as you like, but let me take mine at my ease."
"Arrah! thin, here goes," cried Gillooly; and he began gnawing away with
right good will at the _lump_ of venison.
It was pretty evident that either he or Klitz must have managed to kill
a deer, judging from the ample supply of meat they appeared to possess.
Their rifles lay at a little distance, and close to their wheel-barrow,
which seemed to be well loaded. There was no danger, therefore, of
their firing at us before they discovered who we were; and, besides,
they were not likely men to offer any determined resistance.
We amused ourselves for some little time in watching them; and certainly
no two individuals could have afforded a greater contrast. Gillooly
went on eating, laughing, and drinking, diverting himself by quizzing
his saturnine companion, who replied only occasionally, and in
monosyllables.
"We have had enough of this," at length whispered the officer to me.
"If you will seize the Irishman, I will manage the Dutchman. Hold your
pistol to Gillooly's head, and he will be as quiet as a lamb. I will
treat Klitz in the same way."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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