“‘Shouldn’t wonder if we had, you tarnal yaller-hided scoundrel,’ said ole Bill; an’ afore the Greaser could make a move, we had him by the arms, an’ two six-shooters were lookin’ him in the face. His cowardly men didn’t fire a shot, but throwed down their guns, an’ run in every direction. But our boys closed up about ’em, an’ out o’ them ar hundred men that come out to ketch Cap’n Morgan, not half a dozen escaped. The only prisoner we tuk back to Monterey war the gen’ral.”
After Dick had got through his tale, the hunters held a consultation over the state of their larder. As their coffee, bread, and other supplies were exhausted, and they did not like the idea of living on venison and water, they concluded to break up camp. The next morning they packed their baggage into the sled, and, taking a last look at the place where they had spent so many happy hours, set out for Uncle Joe’s cabin, which they reached a little before dark.
CHAPTER XVI.
The Lost Wagon-Train.
UNCLE Joe met them at the door, and, while they were relieving themselves of their overcoats and weapons, asked innumerable questions about their sojourn in the woods. Dick took the part of spokesman, and described, in his rude, trapper’s style, the scenes through which they had passed, dwelling with a good deal of emphasis on the “keerlessness” displayed by the Young Naturalist in attacking the moose, and in starting off alone to fight the panther. The trapper tried hard to suppress the feelings of pride which he really felt, and favored the young hunter with a look that was intended to be severe, but which was, in fact, a mingling of joy and satisfaction.
Frank bore the scolding which Uncle Joe administered with a very good grace, for he knew that he deserved it.
“I’d like to take the youngster out on the prairy,” said Dick, seating himself before the fire, and producing his never-failing pipe. “I’ll bet that, arter he had follered me and Useless a year or two, he wouldn’t be in no great hurry to pitch into every wild varmint he come acrost.”