The men then went into the balcony of the hotel, and, with opera glasses, watched the progress of the red Nimrod.
He, at length, reached the spot where the ducks had been seen to settle down among the tules—a kind of bulrush from ten to fifteen feet in height.
Presently the watchers saw the smoke dart from the end of the Indian’s gun; saw him fall backwards to the ground, then a tremendous roar came across the lake—a sound as though the gun had burst into a thousand pieces. Fearing that the gun had indeed burst and killed the poor devil, the wags began to feel very guilty. They hastened from the house and hurried round the lake to the rescue. When they had gone about half way round they met their Indian coming toward them. There was a long gash across his right cheek-bone, his nose was bunged up, and his face was covered with blood, but he was completely loaded down with ducks.
“Well, Jim,” said the wags, who now felt better satisfied with their little joke, “how did you make it?”
“Yes;” said Jim, “one more shoot um—no more ducks, no more Injun!”
CHAPTER XXXIX.
CONCERNING “LO” AND HIS FAMILY.
It is said to be next to impossible to astonish an Indian, but on one occasion, while residing in Virginia City, I astonished, frightened, and disgusted a whole flock of the unsophisticated “children of the desert,” and with a mere handful of shrimps.
A crowd of Piutes, numbering over a dozen, male and female, great and small, had come to anchor, squat upon the ground, just off the sidewalk, in front of a fruit-stand (a favorite place of resort with them), and were in the midst of what to them was a great feast. Upon an old shawl, spread in the centre of their circle, was a great heap of half-rotten apples, damaged cherries, soured strawberries, and other offal from the fruit-store in front of which they were squatted. Among the male Indians was Smoke Creek Sam, the Piute detective, who, with head thrown back, was each moment dropping into his mouth great wads of strawberries, squeezed together, stems and all, of the size of an ordinary codfish-ball.
Some of the little Indian boys and girls were smeared to the eyes with a leathery mess, half strawberries and half dirt, which they scooped up from the common heap, and held to their mouths in both hands.
Even the most comely among the squaws had a brown dab of rotten apple on the end of her nose, which that organ had brought away as a trophy during some one of the frequent visits of her industrious mouth to the deep interior of a slushy pippin.