“You’ve stood it pretty well for greenhorns, and now I’m going to give yer a good rest.”
“Do you maan to go into camp for a week or a month, or until the warm season is over?”
“I’m going to leave yer here, while I go for some hoss flesh, and it’ll take longer time than before.”
But the Irishman insisted that he should be allowed to accompany the scout upon this dangerous expedition.
“For the raison that ye are going to pick out this animal for me,” he added, “how do I know but what ye’ll pick out some ring-boned, spavined critter that trots sideways, and is blind in both eyes?”
Fred, who dreaded the long spell of dreary waiting which seemed before him, asked that he might make one of the company; but Sut would not consent, and he objected to both. He finally compromised by agreeing to take the Irishman, but insisted that the lad should stay behind with his mustang.
“A younker like you couldn’t do us a bit of good,” added Sut, by way of explanation, “and like as not yer’d get us into the worst kind of difficulty. Better stay whar you be, rest and be ready to mount your new animal as soon as we’re back, and scoot away for New Boston.”
“How soon will you be back?” he asked, feeling that he ought to make no objection to the decision.
The forenoon was about half gone, and the scout looked up at the sky, removed his coon-skin cap, and thoughtfully wrinkled his brows, as though he were solving some important mental problem.
“Yer may skulp me, younker, but it’s a mighty hard thing to tell. Now I got back with my own animile a good deal sooner than I expected, but that same thing ain’t likely to happen agin. More likely it’ll be t’other way, and we may be gone all day, and p’raps all night.”