“Not by a long shot; that night the confounded scamp stole into camp, run off two of the best horses we had, and come powerful near scalping Colonel Stebbins himself.”
“What was it that prevented?”
“The colonel wore a wig, and when the Nez Perce grabbed his hair, you see it come off without using his knife. So he stuck a couple of eagle-feathers in the top, and set on the head of one of the mules, and then skedaddled. I’ve always ’spicioned that that Injin had white blood in him.”
“His stealing the whisky bottle looks very much like it. Was that the question you wished me to settle?” asked Harry.
“No; I come near forgettin’ it. What I wanted to ask was, whether in law that varmint run away with the boat, or whether it run away with him. I’ve often thought of it since, but have never been able to make out which way it would be. How do you think it would be decided down in Fr’isco?”
Harry Northend was not a little amused at the intense seriousness of Old Ruff, as he referred the question to him. It was not to be supposed, however, that his head was very clear upon such knotty points, and he frankly admitted his inability to decide.
“I’ll put the question to some of them chaps down in Fr’isco the first time I’m there, and stop bothering my head over the blamed thing.”
“Be sure and put the question to two separate ones,” said Harry, “first giving each ten dollars.”
“What fur?”
“Because one will decide the Indian guilty, and the other will decide him innocent. Thus you will get satisfaction from one of them at least, no matter how you look at it yourself. You will pay your money, and can take your choice.”