A short time after the episode just related, there came to our camp one day, a trapper, who had but just returned from his traps, and was on his way to the nearest trading post, to exchange his peltries for powder, wearing apparel, etc. From him we learned that the Indians were preparing for some extensive raid, as he had seen numerous parties who were in their war paint. Among other items, he related how he had been captured by a hand of Apaches, and had remained among them eight days before he succeeded in eluding the vigilance of his guard. From him I gained the first information concerning my wife. He had been captured by some of Mahtocheega's band, and by the description he gave of the white captives at that time in the village, I felt sure that my wife was one of the number. Learning that on his return he would proceed to the same locality in quest of "beaver plew," I determined to accompany him. About half a dozen signified their intention of following my example, and a party was soon made up. The trapper bade us adieu, promising to return as soon as his skins were traded for the supplies of which he stood in need. Gathering together what little money I had, I purchased a horse, rifle and pistol, and prepared to go in search of my lost wife.
We had not long to wait for our new friend; he returned in less than a week's time, and all being in readiness, we gathered up our traps, and took a final leave of the mine of San Ildefonso.
Passing out at the northern end of the settlement, we struck the Santa Fé road, and followed its sinuous windings for some days. We passed through the sleepy Mexican towns, that were situated along the route, without disturbing in the least degree the habitual drowsiness of their inhabitants. On the fourth day we made a stretch of sixty miles through that terror of travelers in this section—the "jornado del muerto." After having crossed in safety, we rested one day to recuperate the animals, and soon after arrived in Santa Fé, halting at the inn that had been the scene of the shooting affray on my former visit. Our stay in the capital of New Mexico was not of long duration, and once more we resumed our journey, striking out in a westerly direction towards the mountains.
Our first encampment was on the banks of one of the tributaries of the Rio Colorado. Staking our horses out, as is the custom, we gathered around the camp fire, discussing our evening meal of fresh antelope steaks. Many were the stories told of trapper life, and as we filled our pipes for a smoke before retiring, the subject of conversation was upon food. All had some anecdote to relate and after each had spun his yarn, Harding, who up to the present had been silent, drawled out, "Wal, I 'spect as how yer have had some tol'rable bad jints in yer time, but I think I kin jest lay over anything in this yer party in the way o' supper. Howsumever, I will give yer a chance to hear how this nigger once got his supper up on the Yallerstone, last season.
"Yer see, I had been in them parts arter beaver, which war plenty, an' no mistake; an' one day, when I had gone to cache some skins, I left my rifle in the grass near my traps, like a gosh darned fool. Who should came along but a party of them black niggers, the Crows; and the first thing they sot eyes upon was my shootin' iron. In course, I seed it all, and jist had to lay low and cuss my tarnal stupidity, while them 'ere Crows hopped around like mad at finding my rifle and things. They was so pleased, 'peared like they forgot theirselves, and didn't foller up my trail, but galloped off, carryin' my plunder along with them. He! he! they mount a did as well, and let ole Harding alone."
"I reckon that, too," remarked one; "'taint like they made much out of that spekalashun."
"Yer see, I war cleaned out, an' left with jest a pair o' leggins, better than two hunderd miles from anywhur. The company's post war the nearest, so I jest took down the river in that direcshun. I never seed varmint so shy. They wouldn't a been, blast 'em, if I had er had my traps, but there wa'n't a critter, from the minners to the buffler, that didn't take on as if they knowed how this nigger war fixed. I could get nothing for two days but lizard, an' scarce at that. I chewed up the old leggings, until I was as naked as Pike's Peak."
"Golly! was it winter?"
"No, 'twur calf time, and warm enuff for that matter. I didn't mind the want o' garments in that way, but I kud a eat more o' it. I soon struck a town of sand rats, and I made snares of my hair, and trapped some on 'em, but they grow shy, too, cuss 'em, and I had to give up that claim. This war the third day, and I wur gettin' powerful weak. I 'gin to think this child's time had come, and I would have ter pass in my chips. 'Twur a little arter sun up, an' I war sittin' on the bank, when I seed something cur'ous like floatin' down stream. When it kim closer, I seed it wur the karkidge of a buffler, and a couple of buzzards floppin' about on the thing, pickin' its peepers out. 'Twur far out, an' the water deep; but I said I was goin' to fetch it ashore, an' I did. I took to the water an' swum out. I could smell the animal afore I wur half way. I wur soon close up, and seen at a glimpse that the calf wur as rotten as punk. The birds, they mizzled. I wa'n't agoin' to have my swim for nothin', so I tuk the tail atween my teeth, and wagged my flippers for the shore. I hadn't made three strokes When the tail pulled out. I then swum round and pushed that 'ere thing afore me, until I had got it high and dry on a sandbar. 'Twur like to melt when I pulled it out o' the water. 'Twa'n't eatable nohow. I see the buzzards still flying about, and fresh ones comin', an' I took a idee that I might get some, so I laid down close to the buffler, and played possum. I wa'n't long there 'fore a big cock com a floppin' up, and lit on the karkidge. I grabbed him by the leg. The cussed thing wur nearly as stinkin' as the other; but it wur die dog, buzzard, or buffler; so I skinned the buzzard."
"And ate it?" inquired one.