“He didn’t help me along very easy, but dragged me over logs an’ through bushes, as if he meant to pull my head off, while the other fellers, findin’ nothin’ else to do, follered behind with switches, that cut through my old huntin’-shirt like a knife. At last, arter they had got me purty well thrashed, we reached the camp, which war jest at the foot of the mountains—I’ll show you the place in the mornin”—an’ here they stood me up ag’in a post. Then I ketched it from every body—men, women, an’ young ones. The most of the braves war still out arter the old man, an’ I could easy tell by the way they whooped an’ yelled that they hadn’t ketched him. I knowed they wouldn’t get him, neither, unless they surrounded him like they did me.
“Wal, arter tormentin’ me fur a long time, an’ findin’ that I didn’t keer fur ’em, the Injuns finally let me alone; an’ one ole dried-up squaw brought me a piece of buffaler meat. They wouldn’t untie my hands, but that ole woman sot thar on the ground, an’ fed me like I war a baby. I eat a heap of that meat, ’cause I war hungry, an’ if I got a chance to have a race with the varlets, I didn’t want to run on an empty stomach; ’sides I might have to go without eatin’ fur two or three days afore I could find ole Bill. Jest afore dark the braves began to come in, one arter the other. They hadn’t ketched the ole man, an’ I could see, by the way they scowled at me, that I would have to stand punishment for his deeds, an’ my own into the bargain. I could have yelled, when I knowed the old feller war safe, an’ I made up my mind that if the Injuns would only give me half a chance, I’d soon be with him ag’in.
“Wal, when the chiefs come in, I war tied fast to the post, and left thar. They didn’t try to skeer me any more, ’cause they seed it war no use, an’ ’sides, they wanted to save all their spite fur the mornin’, fur it war too late to begin bisness that night. I war fast enough—as fast as if I had been wrapped up in chains—but them Injuns war afraid to trust me. They actooally kept half a dozen of their braves watchin’ me, from the time it began to grow dark till daylight the next mornin’. I didn’t sleep very easy, fur I war standin’ ag’in that post, an’ the bark they had tied me with war drawed so tight that it cut into my arms; but I made out to git a nap or two, an’ when mornin’ come, an’ I had eat another big chunk of that buffaler meat, I war ready fur ’em to begin.
“As soon as the sun war up, the chief called a council. It didn’t take ’em long to say what should be done with me, fur sooner than I had thought fur, one of the chiefs set up a yelp, which war answered by the hul tribe, an’ men, women, an’ children began formin’ themselves into two lines, with whips, clubs, tomahawks, or whatever else they could ketch hold of; an’ two fellers come up to set me free. I war to run the gauntlet. I tell you, youngsters, if thar is any thing that will make the har rise on a feller’s head, it is fur him to stand an’ look atween two lines sich as I saw that mornin’. It warn’t the fust time I had been in jest sich scrapes, an’ I knowed, too, that the Injuns didn’t mean to kill me then—they wanted to save me for the stake—but somehow I couldn’t help feelin’ shaky. I didn’t let the Injuns see it, howsomever, but tightened my belt, stretched my arms, an’, ’walkin’ out in front of the lines, waited fur the word to start. The head of the line war t’wards the camp, an’ at the foot, which war t’wards this creek, stood five or six big fellers, waitin’ to ketch me when I come out.
“Wal, it didn’t take me long to see how the land lay, an’ when the chief yelled to let me know that the time had come, I started. The way I traveled through ’em lines war a thing fur ’em Comanches to look at. I got plenty of clips as I passed, but this war the only one that hurt me.”
As the trapper spoke, he bared his brawny shoulder, and showed the boys a long, ragged scar. The wound must have been a most severe one.
“That one,” continued Dick, “war made by a tomahawk. It didn’t hinder my runnin’, howsomever, an’ I warn’t half a minit comin’ to the end of ’em lines. But when I got thar I didn’t stop. The Injuns that war waitin’ thar, tried to ketch me, but I passed them like a streak of lightnin’, an’ drawed a bee-line fur this ere creek. In course the hul camp war arter me to onct; but I knowed that I war safe, fur all the Injuns war behind me, an’ I wouldn’t have been afraid to run a race with a hoss. I didn’t do as well as I had done afore, nor nigh as well as I could do now, fur I war stiff an’ lame from bein’ tied up so long; but I run plenty fast enough to git away. As I told you, I run through these willows, swam the creek—which war wide an’ deep then, on ’count of the snow an’ ice meltin”—then tuk to the mountains, an’ started to make a circle round to the ole bar’s hole. I traveled in every little stream I could find; walked on logs, an’ on the second day, found ole Bill. The ole feller had been mighty down-hearted since I war ketched—fur the yells of the Injuns plainly told him what had become of me—an’ had never expected to take me by the hand ag’in. But, when he seed me safe an’ sound, he sot right down on the ground an’ cried like a child.
“Wal, we lay ’round the ole bar’s hole till the Injuns had gone, an’ then set out fur the fort. We war on foot, an’ had but one rifle atween us, but we got through all right, an’ in less’n a month, war on our way to the mountains ag’in.”