“What did you discover?” he challenged.
“Not a thing, sorr,” reported Pat. “An’ Cruzatte, here, knows no more about the Injuns than the rist of us.”
“Where have you been, Cruzatte?”
“I shoot wan elk, same time you shoot. Den I see nodder in brush, I shoot at heem, he vaneesh an’ I try to find heem, but he get away.”
“Oh, you did! How much of him did you see when you shot?”
“B’gorry, you shot the cap’n!” bellowed Sergeant Pat. “That’s what you did. Ye’re blind as a mole! B’gorry, you shot the cap’n—ye shot your commandin’ officer, an’ by that ye’re to be coortmartialed an’ shot yourself!”
“Non, non!” wailed old Cruzatte, wringing his hands. “I no mean to shoot heem. I see wan leetle brown spot in brush—look jus’ like wan elk-fur, long way off; I take aim, bang!—I t’ink I see elk run, an’ I run to ketch heem. I no mean to shoot my capitaine. It wan grand mistake.”
“Didn’t you hear me call?” demanded the captain. “I suspected maybe that ball came from your rifle and I hallooed as loud as I could. Why, by the shock you couldn’t have been more than forty paces!”
“I hear notting. I hear not one word,” protested Cruzatte.
“The ball coming from so close, and you not answering, I of course thought of Indians,” continued the captain.