'I think I'd ruther be hyar,' was the commentary of the trapper upon the expressed wish of the Irishman.
'Why can't yees touch up the staammau, and make him hop owver them shtones?' asked Mickey, turning toward the boy, whom, it was noted, appeared to be in deep reverie again.
Not until he was addressed several times did he look up. Then he merely shook his head, to signify that the thing was impossible.
'Any fool might know better than that.' remarked the Yankee, 'for if he could jump over, where would be the wagon?'
'That 'ud foller, av coorse.'
'No; there's no way of getting the steam man out of here. He is a gone case, sure, and it looks as though we were ditto. Jerusalem! I wish all the gold was back in Wolf Ravine, and we war a thousand miles from this place.'
'Wishing'll do no good; there's only one chance I see, and that ain't no chance at all.'
All, including the boy, eagerly looked up to hear the explanation.
'Some distance from hyar is some timbers, and in thar the reds have left their animals. Ef we start on a run for the timbers, git thar ahead of the Ingins, mount thar hosses and put, thar'll be some chance. Yer can see what chance thar is fur that.'
It looked as hopeless as the charge of the Light Brigade.