From his look and the manner in which he handled it, it was plain that he now regarded that souvenir with more reverence than ever. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. A FEAT A LA TAIL. I had fallen into a sort of reverie. My mind was occupied with the incidents I had just witnessed, when a voice, which I recognised as that of old Rube, roused me from my abstraction. "Look'ee hyur, boyees! Tain't of'n as ole Rube wastes lead, but I'll beat that Injun's shot, or 'ee may cut my ears off." A loud laugh hailed this allusion of the trapper to his ears, which, as we have observed, were already gone; and so closely had they been trimmed that nothing remained for either knife or shears to accomplish. "How will you do it, Rube?" cried one of the hunters; "shoot the mark off a yer own head?" "I'll let 'ee see if 'ee wait," replied Rube, stalking up to a tree, and taking from its rest a long, heavy rifle, which he proceeded to wipe out with care. The attention of all was now turned to the manoeuvres of the old trapper. Conjecture was busy as to his designs. What feat could he perform that would eclipse the one just witnessed? No one could guess. "I'll beat it," continued he, muttering, as he loaded his piece, "or 'ee may chop the little finger off ole Rube's right paw." Another peal of laughter followed, as all perceived that this was the finger that was wanting. "'Ee--es," continued he, looking at the faces that were around him, "'ee may scalp me if I don't." This last remark elicited fresh roars of laughter; for although the cat-skin was closely drawn upon his head, all present knew that old Rube was minus his scalp. "But how are ye goin' to do it? Tell us that, old hoss!" "'Ee see this, do 'ee?" asked the trapper, holding out a small fruit of the cactus pitahaya, which he had just plucked and cleaned of its spikelets. "Ay, ay," cried several voices, in reply. "'Ee do, do 'ee? Wal; 'ee see 'tain't half as big as the Injun's squash. 'Ee see that, do 'ee?" "Oh, sartinly! Any fool can see that." "Wal; s'pose I plug it at sixty, plump centre?" "Wagh!" cried several, with shrugs of disappointment. "Stick it on a pole, and any o' us can do that," said the principal speaker. "Here's Barney could knock it off wid his owld musket. Couldn't you, Barney?" "In truth, an' I could thry," answered a very small man, leaning upon a musket, and who was dressed in a tattered uniform that had once been sky-blue. I had already noticed this individual with some curiosity, partly struck with his peculiar costume, but more particularly on account of the redness of his hair, which was the reddest I had ever seen. It bore the marks of a severe barrack discipline--that is, it had been shaved, and was now growing out of his little round head short and thick, and coarse in the grain, and of the colour of a scraped carrot. There was no possibility of mistaking Barney's nationality. In trapper phrase, any fool could have told that.