A coughing gurgle and a choked snort came from the base of the rock, and then a louder, more persistent drumming.
"An' you said Benjamin had done snuk home," accused Harrison. "I'm surprised at you. He's been here all th' time. How could he snuk when he's hog-tied, which is appropriate? Gurgle, gurgle, little man—I'll untie you if I can." He bent over, cut loose the gag, slashed the belt from the trussed feet and severed the neckerchief from the crossed wrists. "There! There! Not so loud!" he gently chided.
"Blankety dashed blank blank!" said Ben Gates. "Dashed blankety dashed blank blank! What th' h—l you want to cut that belt for, you dashed dashed blankety blank of a dash! Three dollars done gone to th' devil! Just because you got a blankety-blank knife do you have to slash every dashed-dashed thing you see!"
"Sh!" whispered Fleming. "We know yo're grateful; but what happened?" he breathed, too busy to look around.
"Shut yore face!" ordered Harrison, trying in vain to stare through a great, black lava bowlder which lay on the other side of a small clearing.
"Dashed blank!" said Benjamin. "It's been shut enough, you d—d pie-faced doodle-bug!"
"Yes; yes; we know," soothed Fleming; "but what happened?"
"Leaned over to get my blankety-blank hat and a dashed tree fell on my blank head!" He felt of the afore-mentioned head with a light and tender touch; and the generous bump made him swear again.
"It's that prospectin' rustler," enlightened Fleming, gratis, as he peered into the shadows behind him.
"No!" said Gates. "I reckoned it was General Grant an' th' Army of th' Potomac! Dead shore it wasn't Columbus?" he sneered.