“You haven’t!” exclaimed George. “I’ll divide with you.”
He opened his haversack, as he spoke, and producing from its capacious depths a goodly supply of bacon and cracker, placed it in the hands of the wounded man, whose eyes brightened as he received it. George stood by and saw him eat it, and was glad to see that he enjoyed it, although he knew that by thus diminishing his store he put himself in a fair way to go hungry for many a weary mile of his journey. The man was a scoundrel—no one except himself could tell what deeds of violence he had been guilty of during his raids—but for all that George was glad that it was in his power to relieve his distress.
“I am sorry to see you in this situation, Springer,” said he, when the bacon and cracker had disappeared.
“Are you, though?” exclaimed the man, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and looking up in surprise. “I didn’t s’pose you would be.”
“Well, I am; and I hope that when you get well, you will behave yourself and live among white men.”
“That’s unpossible; ‘kase why, white men won’t have nothing to do with me,” replied Springer, almost fiercely. “Would you hire me to herd cattle fur you?”
“Yes, I would. I know you threatened that you would be revenged on my father for discharging you, but I don’t see why you should follow me up. I haven’t done anything to you. How did you get shot? And how came you here?”
“Wal, you see, we made the dash on your camp, kalkerlatin’ to take you by surprise; but Zeke, he allers sleeps with his rifle in his hand an’ one eye open, an’ I was the fust feller he got a crack at. He took two pulls at me, an’ this yere is the consequence,” said Springer, pointing with both forefingers toward his bandaged legs. “When we left your camp, the fellers put me on my hoss, an’ I kept up with ‘em fur a few hours; but the pace was too fast fur me—I couldn’t stand the joltin’; so I had to pull up. When I reached this bayou, I thought I’d get a drink of water; but when I got down I fell, lettin’ go my bridle, an’ my hoss walked away. I was too weak an’ bad hurt to crawl to the water; I couldn’t ketch my hoss, an’ I reckoned I’d got to stay right here. I happened to see you when you come to the top of the ridge, an’ called to you, thinkin’ mebbe you wouldn’t refuse to give me the drink I was a’most ready to die fur. But you wouldn’t a done it, if you knowed as much as I do!”
“Yes, I would. I don’t bear you any ill-will because you stole my cattle.”
“But that aint all!” exclaimed Springer.