We were not kept long in suspense. In a few minutes Rube was seen returning, and by his side the "old 'oman," in the shape of a long, lank, bare-ribbed, high-boned mustang, that turned out on close inspection to be a mare! This, then, was Rube's squaw, and she was not at all unlike him, excepting the ears. She was long-eared, in common with all her race: the same as that upon which Quixote charged the windmill. The long ears caused her to look mulish, but it was only in appearance; she was a pure mustang when you examined her attentively. She seemed to have been at an earlier period of that dun-yellowish colour known as "clay-bank," a common colour among Mexican horses; but time and scars had somewhat metamorphosed her, and grey hairs predominated all over, particularly about the head and neck. These parts were covered with a dirty grizzle of mixed hues. She was badly wind-broken; and at stated intervals of several minutes each, her back, from the spasmodic action of the lungs, heaved up with a jerk, as though she were trying to kick with her hind legs, and couldn't. She was as thin as a rail, and carried her head below the level of her shoulders; but there was something in the twinkle of her solitary eye (for she had but one), that told you she had no intention of giving up for a long time to come. She was evidently game to the backbone. Such was the "old 'oman" Rube had promised to fetch; and she was greeted by a loud laugh as he led her up. "Now, look'ee hyur, boyees," said he, halting in front of the crowd. "Ee may larf, an' gabble, an' grin till yur sick in the guts--yur may! but this child's a-gwine to take the shine out o' that Injun's shot--he is, or bust a-tryin'." Several of the bystanders remarked that that was likely enough, and that they only waited to see in what manner it was to be done. No one who knew him doubted old Rube to be, as in fact he was, one of the very best marksmen in the mountains--fully equal, perhaps, to the Indian; but it was the style and circumstances which had given such _eclat_ to the shot of the latter. It was not every day that a beautiful girl could be found to stand fire as the squaw had done; and it was not every hunter who would have ventured to fire at a mark so placed. The strength of the feat lay in its newness and peculiarity. The hunters had often fired at the mark held in one another's hands. There were few who would like to carry it on their head. How, then, was Rube to "take the shine out o' that Injun's shot"? This was the question that each was asking the other, and which was at length put directly to Rube himself. "Shet up your meat-traps," answered he, "an I'll show 'ee. In the fust place, then, 'ee all see that this hyur prickly ain't more'n hef size o' the squash?" "Yes, sartainly," answered several voices. "That wur one sukumstance in his favour. Wa'nt it?" "It wur! it wur!"