“I didn’t wait to give the ole man a chance to say a word, ’cause I knowed that he didn’t like to take that hoss; but I made off through the bushes. Ole Bill seed that I war gone, an’ jumpin’ on the hoss, he rode out on the prairy in plain sight, to get the Comanches to foller him, which some of ’em did; but the ole braves, who had heered my shot, an’, in course, knowed that there war more’n one feller ’bout, couldn’t be fooled easy, an’ thinkin’ they could ketch a man on foot sooner nor a man on hossback, they kept on arter me. But I war fresh for a long run—a week’s travelin’ acrost the prairy on foot warn’t no new thing for me—an’ as I never see the Injun yet that could beat me in a fair race, I felt safe, an’ knowed that I should come out all right. I didn’t waste time in tryin’ to throw ’em off my trail, but kept straight ahead at a steady pace, an’ whenever an Injun come in sight, me an’ my rifle settled things with him in a tarnal hurry. This made ’em kind o’ keerful, an’ afore sundown I war out o’ hearin o’ their yells, an’ a greenhorn wouldn’t have thought that there war an Injun in them woods. But I war too ole a coon to believe that they had give up the chase, an’ it warn’t until the next mornin’ that I camped to take a leetle sleep, an’ eat a squirrel I had shot.
“Wal, I traveled for ’bout ten days, durin’ which time I didn’t see a bit o’ Injun sign, an’ finally found myself gettin’ purty nigh the ole bar’s hole. As soon as I come to the woods that run down from the mountain, I tuk to a creek that run clost by the cave, an’ walked along in the water, all the while keepin’ a good look-out for Injun sign an’ for ole Bill. Arter I had gone ’bout a mile, I come to the mouth o’ the cave. It war a hole jest large enough for a man to squeeze himself through, an’ so covered up with bushes that a feller might hunt a week without findin’ it. The cave itself war ’bout as large as this yere cabin; an’ right acrost from the entrance war a passage which led up to the top o’ the hill. Me an’ ole Bill had made this ourselves, so that, in case our harborin’ place should be diskivered, we would have a chance for escape.
“When I come to the cave it war purty dark; so, arter listenin’ awhile for signs of Injuns, if there war any around, I crawled along into the hole, which war, in course, as dark as pitch, an’ commenced fumblin’ around for a torch that I had left stuck into the wall o’ the cave, all ready to be lighted. Arter searchin’ ’bout for a long time I found it—not where I had left it, but lyin’ on the ground in the middle o’ the cave. This seemed suspicious, an’ I begun to be afraid that something war wrong. I hadn’t seed no Injun sign near the cave, neither had I seed any thing of ole Bill, an’ I knowed that that torch couldn’t get moved clear acrost that cave without somebody had been foolin’ with it. I reckon my hand war none o’ the steadiest, as I lifted the torch an’ commenced feelin’ in my possible-sack for my flint an’ steel, thinkin’ that as soon as I could strike a light, I would jest examine into things a leetle.
“Wal, I hadn’t made more ’n one blow at my flint, when the cave echoed with the war-whoop, an’ the next minit I found myself lyin’ flat on my back, with a big Comanche on top o’ me.
“When I first heered the yell, I thought the cave war full of Injuns, an’ I’ll allow it made me feel a heap easier when I found that the feller that clinched me war alone, for I knowed that if any one Injun could master my scalp, he must be a tarnal sight smarter nor any red-skin I had ever met; an’, without waitin’ to ask no questions, I made a grab at the varmint, an’, by good luck, ketched the hand that held his knife; an’ then commenced one o’ the liveliest little fights I war ever in.
“The Injun war mighty strong, an’ as wiry as an eel, an’, although I could keep him from usin’ his knife, I could not get him off me, neither could I get my left arm free, which, in fallin’, he had pinned to my side; but I kept thrashin’ about in a way that made it mighty onhandy for him to hold me. But findin’ that I could do nothin’ in that way, I all to onct let go the hand that held the knife, an’ give him a clip ’side the head that would have knocked down a buck. It kinder staggered his daylight some, I reckon’, for I made out to get my arm free, an’, ketchin’ the varlet by the scalp-lock, I had him on his back in a minit. He yelled an’ kicked wusser nor I I did when he had me down, an’ slashed right an’ left with his scalpin’-knife; but it didn’t take long to settle matters, an’ all fears that our harborin’ place had been broke up war put at rest by the death o’ the Comanche.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
End of the Trapper and Black Mustang.
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