"I will send a man off instantly. Here, Sanchez! you have a good horse, and know the ground. It is not over twenty miles to where they are cached. Bring them along the ridge, and with caution, as you have heard. You will find us around the north point of the mountain. You can travel all night, and be up with us early in the morning. Away!" The torero, without making any answer, drew his horse from the picket, leaped into the saddle, and rode off at a gallop towards the north-west. "It is fortunate," said Seguin, looking after him for some moments, "that they have trampled the ground about here, else the tracks made in our last encounter would certainly have told tales upon us." "Thur's no danger about that," rejoined Rube; "but when we rides from hyur, cap'n, we mustn't foller their trail. They'd soon sight our back tracks. We had best keep up yander among the loose donicks." Rube pointed to the shingle that stretched north and south along the foot of the mountain. "Yes, that shall be our course. We can leave this without leaving any tracks. What next?" "The next idee ur, to get rid o' yon piece o' machin'ry," and the trapper, as he spoke, nodded in the direction of the skeleton. "True! I had forgotten it. What shall we do with it?" "Bury it," advised one. "Wagh! no. Burn it!" cried another. "Ay, that's best," said a third. The latter suggestion was adopted. The skeleton was brought down; the stains of the blood were carefully rubbed from the rocks; the skull was shivered with a tomahawk, and the joints were broken in pieces. The whole mass was then flung upon the fire, and pounded down among numerous bones of the buffalo, already simmering in the cinders. An anatomist only could have detected the presence of a human skeleton. "Now, Rube; the arrows?" "If 'ee'll leave that to me an' Bill Garey, I think them two niggurs kin fix 'em so as to bamfoozle any Injuns thur is in these parts. We'll hev to go three mile or tharabout; but we'll git back by the time 'ee hev filled yur gourds, an' got yur traps ready for skeetin'." "Very well! take the arrows." "Four's gobs for us," said Rube, taking that number from the quiver. "Keep the rest. 'Ee'll want more wolf-meat afore we start. Thur's not a tail o' anythin' else till we git clur roun' the mountain yander. Billee! throw your ugly props over that Navagh mustang. Putty hoss too; but I wudn't giv my old mar for a hul cavayard o' him. Gi's a sprig o' the black feather." Here the old trapper drew one of the ostrich feathers out of the helmet of the Navajo chief, and continued-- "Boyees! take care o' the ole mar till I kum back, an don't let her stampede, do 'ee hear. I wants a blanket. Don't all speak at oncest!" "Here, Rube, here!" cried several, holding out their blankets.