“Must be Ben Mace’ll come,” said another. “He hadn’t so fur to go.”
“That’s why I feel a trifle oneasy ’bout him, Lew,” answered Revel. “I’ll own it. He’s as good a scout as is in the kentry, only he’s so mad at sight of an Injun. He runs too much resk for the sake of revenge.”
“Why not stay whar we be?” said Hulet. “I don’t b’l’eve Scarred Eagle ’ll git back frum the neck to-night. Thar’s no Injuns in the neighborhood, an’ ef I kin read right it’ll be so dark in an hour that none on us could find our way back.”
“How mooch for y’ur advoice, Misthur Hugelet?” said Tim, quickly. “You’re afeard of runnin’ y’ur head ag’in’ a tree or bear, whuch? Dthe id’a of a scout, a syees purtind to be, not bein’ able to git through the woods for darkness! Pish!”
“You’ll run y’ur head ag’in’ sunthin’ bimeby, Mister Brogue,” said Hulet, “that’ll make ye—”
“Oh, git out!” interrupted Revel, again. “Let this foolin’ come to an end. Some o’ them that’s away may come or not, but we’ll watch for ’em anyhow. I think Rhodan ’ll be back. The darkness won’t stop him.”
“He’d find his way through te-teto-te-tle—durn it—tetotal darkness blindfolded,” added Joe, spitefully.
“Good, Joe,” said Revel, with a laugh. “Now, boys—ah, what’s that?”
He had seen a dusky figure pass by the outlet of the gorge. Before he spoke, however, Joe Hill had sprung off with the agility of a cat, and disappeared in the bushes hard by. The rest grasped their rifles and followed. But they had hardly reached the outlet of the ravine when Joe reappeared from a side-path, leading an Indian girl, who evidently had not tried hard to get away.
“Thar!” he ejaculated, “I’ve g-got ’er, though what she wa-wan—blast it!—wants hyur’s more’n I kin tell. Cu-curi’s part on’t is, she did-didn’t tr-r-r-try ter git away.”