“Wal, I walked all round the camp, an’ back to the place where I had started from, an’ not a bit of Injun sign did I see. There war a high hill jest on the other side of the gully, an’ I knowed that if there war any Injuns about, an’ they should take it into their heads to pounce down upon us, they would jest show themselves in that direction; so I sot down on the prairy, outside o’ the wagons, which war drawn up as a sort o’ breastwork round the camp, and begun to listen. I didn’t hear nothin’, however, until a’most midnight, and then, jest arter I had changed the guards, an’ was goin’ back to my place, I heered somethin’ that made me prick up my ears. It war the hootin’ of an owl, an’ it seemed to come from the hill.
“Now, you youngsters would’n’t have seed any thing strange in that; but a man who has spent his life among wild Injuns and varmints can tell the difference atween a sound when it comes from an owl’s throat, and when it comes from a Comanche’s; an’ I to onct made up my mind that it war a signal. Presently from the gully come the song of a whippoorwill. It didn’t sound exactly like the notes I had heered come from that same gully but a few minits afore, an’ I knowed that it war another signal. When the whippoorwill had got through, I heered the barkin’ of a prairy wolf further up the gully to the right o’ the camp; an’ all to onct the wolves, which had been barkin’ an’ quarrelin’ round the wagons, set up a howl, an’ scampered away out o’ sight. This would have been as good a sign as I wanted that there war Injuns about, even if I hadn’t knowed it afore; so I sot still on the ground to see what would be the next move.
“In a few minits I heered a rustlin’ like in the grass a little to one side of me. I listened, an’ could tell by the sound that there was somebody in there, crawlin’ along on his hands an’ knees. Nearer an’ nearer it come, an’ when it got purty clost to me it stopped, an’ I seed an’ Injun’s head come up over the top o’ the grass, an’ I could see that the rascal war eyein’ me purty sharp. I sot mighty still, noddin’ my head a leetle as if I war fallin’ asleep, keepin’ an’ eye on the ole feller all the time to see that he didn’t come none of his Injun tricks on me, and finally give a leetle snore, which seemed to satisfy the painted heathen, for I heered his ‘ugh!’ as he crawled along by me into camp.
“What made you do that?” interrupted Archie, excitedly. “Why didn’t you muzzle him?”
“That the way you youngsters, what don’t know nothin’ about fightin’ Injuns, would have done,” answered the trapper, with a laugh, “an’ you would have had your har raised for your trouble. But, you see, I knowed that he had friends not a great way off, an’ that the fust motion I made to grab the rascal, I would have an arrer slipped into me as easy as fallin’ off a log. But I didn’t like to have the varlet behind me; so, as soon as I knowed that he had had time to get into the camp, I commenced noddin’ agin, an’ finally fell back on the ground, ker-chunk.
“I guess them Injuns that were layin’ round in the grass laughed some when they see how quick I picked up my pins. I got up as though I expected to see a hull tribe of Comanches clost on to me, looked all round, an’, arter stretchin’ my arms as though I had enjoyed a good sleep, I started along toward the place where one o’ the guards war standin’. I walked up clost to him, an’ whispered:
“‘Don’t act as though you thought that any thing was wrong, but keep your eyes on the grass. There’s Injuns about.’
“The chap turned a leetle pale when he heered this; but although he was as green as a punkin, as far as Injun fightin’ war consarned, he seemed to have the real grit in him, for he nodded in a way that showed that he understood what I meant. I then dropped down on all-fours, an’ commenced crawlin’ into the camp to find the Injun. The fires had burned low, an’ the moon had gone down, but still there war light enough for me to see the rascal crawlin’ along on the ground, an’ making toward one of the wagons. When he reached it, he raised to his feet, an’, arter casting his eyes about the camp, to make sure that no one seed him, he lifted up the canvas an’ looked in. Now war my time. Droppin’ my rifle, I sprung to my feet, an’ started for the varlet; but jest as I war goin’ to grab him, one o’ the women in the wagon, who happened to be awake, set up a screechin’. The Injun dropped like a flash o’ lightnin’, an’, dodgin’ the grab I made at him, started for the other side o’ the camp, jumpin’ over the fellers that were layin’ round as easy as if he had wings. I war clost arter him, but the cuss run like a streak; an finding that I war not likely to ketch him afore he got out into the prairy, I jumped back for my rifle an’ tuk a flyin’ shot at him, jest as he war divin’ under a wagon. I don’t very often throw away a chunk o’ lead, an’, judgin’ by the way he yelled, I didn’t waste one that time. He dropped like a log, but war on his feet agin in a minit, an’, without waitin’ to ax no questions, set up the war-whoop. I tell you, youngsters, the sound o’ that same war-whoop war no new thing to me. I’ve heered it often—sometimes in the dead o’ night, when I didn’t know that there war any danger about, an’ it has rung in my ears when I’ve been runnin’ for my life, with a dozen o’ the yellin’ varlets clost to my heels; but I never before, nor since, felt my courage give way as it did on that night. Scarcely a man in the hull wagon-train, exceptin’ me an ole Bill, had ever drawed a bead on an Injun, an’ I war a’most sartin that I should have a runnin’ fight with the rascals afore mornin’.
“The whoop war answered from all round the camp, an’ the way the bullets an’ arrers come into them ar wagons warn’t a funny thing to look at. My shot had ’wakened a’most every one in[Pg camp, but there warn’t much sleepin’ done arter the Injuns give that yell. Men, women, an’ children poured out o’ the wagons, an’ run about, gettin’ in everybody’s way; an’ sich a muss as war kicked up in that ar camp I never heered afore. There war about seventy men in the train, an’ they war all good marksmen, but there war scarcely a dozen that thought o’ their rifles. They kept callin’ on me an’ ole Bill to save ’em, an’ never onct thought o’ pickin’ up their we’pons an’ fightin’ to save themselves; an’, in spite of all we could do, them ar cowardly sneaks would get behind the women an’ children for protection. It war enough to frighten any one; an’ although that ar warn’t the fust muss o’ the kind I had been in, I felt my ole ’coon-skin cap raise on my head when I thought what a slaughter there would be when them Comanches onct got inside o’ the camp. There war only a few of us to fight ’em, an’ we did the best we could, sendin’ back their yells, an’ bringin’ the death-screech from some unlucky rascal at every shot. But the Injuns warn’t long in findin’ out how the land lay, an’, risin’ round us like a cloud, they come pourin’ into camp.”