Up to this time the journey from Leavenworth had been very comfortable as to weather, with sunny days and occasional little rains. But, according to Billy and all, some of these plains storms were regular “tail twisters” and “stem winders,” drowning even the prairie-dogs out of their holes!
“Left-over’s first on guard to-night,” directed Captain Hi. “We must keep eye and ear open for those Injuns. They may sneak up and run off our mules.”
“They’d better not try it when I’m on guard,” blustered Left-over, in his funny squeak. “You’ll lemme have your gun, won’t you, Jim?”
“Not much!” rapped Jim. “I may want that gun myself. Take one of Billy’s. Let him have your yager, Billy. What have you got in it?”
“A bullet and three buckshot. I loaded her for Injuns.”
“That’s right. Left-over can do a toler’ble lot of shooting with that load.”
Pleased, Left-over took the gun and posted himself just outside the firelight, where he could oversee camp and mules (now tethered near) and any prowling figures approaching. The night settled black and thick, with the stars faintly twinkling through a haze; but wrapped in his blanket beside Billy, Dave soon fell asleep.
He was awakened by a loud bang, and a louder howl from Left-over, who seemed to be stepping on everybody at once.
“Injuns! I’m killed! Help! Murder! Wake up! Why don’t you wake? Help! Murder! Injuns! Injuns!”