“Wal, old hoss, how d’ye like yer new position? Them stuns make ruther a hard bed, don’t they? Kinder guess ye didn’t think ye had sech a big audience when ye wur tellin’ me that nice little story o’ your’n. Yander’s the gal ye’ve been tryin’ to captur’. Why don’t ye jump up and run off with her? Ha! ha! ha! Reckon ye recollects how I come over hyur this arternoon to throw this party off thar guard, so’t Simon Girty an’ his reds could extarminate ’em? Wal, I not only put the fellers on thar guard, but also told ’em to hide tharselves when they should see you an’ me comin’, so’t they could all hear yer secret as I pumped it out o’ yer.”
“Yas,” said Kirby Kidd, “an’ mould me into buckshot ef that wa’n’t a fine trick o’ your’n, whar ye burnt Doc. Trafford in his bed to git rid of his nephew.”
“I’ll swan tew man, mister, you look oncomfortable,” exclaimed Jonathan Boggs, coming forward. “Why, I’m slightly acquainted with you ain’t I?” he added, after a close look at the man. “Dew tell! Now it’s too bad I can’t help you, but I’m bound tew own up that you got yourself into the diffikilty. As Tabitha Simpson used tew say, ‘there’s many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip.’”
There was a general laugh at this, and more than one of the men followed it up with a rude jeu d’esprit at the prisoner’s expense.
McCabe foamed with rage, and tugged at the cords that bound him until they cut into his flesh, swearing furiously the while, and calling down fearful maledictions on the heads of all present. He cursed himself, too, for trusting so blindly in the man who had led him into this trap, and vowed he would haunt Robbins if he were put to death!
“Men,” said the mild voice of Mr. Moreland, “let us not taunt our prisoner, but remember the many dark sins with which his soul is burdened, and pity him.”
“Yer principles is good, I make no doubt,” replied Kirby Kidd; “but dog my cats ef I kin feel much pity fur the skunk.”
But no one thought of disregarding the word of Mr. Moreland, and so Jim McCabe was left to the companionship of his own thoughts, which, we may well believe, were not of the pleasantest character imaginable.
A consultation was now held by the entire party. Kirby Kidd and Nick Robbins exercised their influence to its utmost, and urged Mr. Moreland to take the back track and return to his former home, instead of continuing his journey down the river. Mr. Moreland had been thinking of this step for some hours, but when he thought of his daughter’s misconduct he hesitated. His wife, who had been growing more and more sick at thought of leaving their home and friends forever, put in a timely word while he wavered, whispering that there were better and more convenient ways by which their child might be guided into the path of right. He saw the soundness of the arguments employed, and soon yielded, quietly expressing his determination to go back home and remain there in future.
So, without more ado, the boats were drawn out of their hiding-place under the drooping willows, and, after laying Jim McCabe in the bottom of one of them, the party embarked for home. The paddles were dipped, and the little fleet started off up the river, Kirby Kidd and Wapawah taking the lead in their canoe, while Nick Robbins and Mike Terry brought up the rear in theirs.