“Ugh!”
“I don’t know. But where you find one of ’em you’ll find t’other, most likely. I hain’t set eyes on the dog sence last night, but I saw his master this mornin’—jest after the Injins broke an’ run. You’ll find ’em both ’round the camp somewheres.”
“Me look—no find,” answered the Wyandot with a positive shake of the head.
“Well,” Joe returned dryly, “I wouldn’t lose no sleep ’bout ’em, Injin, if I was you. They’re able to take keer o’ the’rselves.”
“Me look much long time—no find dog—no find master,” the Indian persisted.
“That so?” Joe replied—a shade of uneasiness in his tone. “Well, you’ve got nothin’ else to do—so go on huntin’. When I git through with this bloody business o’ helpin’ to take keer o’ the dead an’ wounded, I’ll take a look ’round with you. By the way, I’m gittin’ most pow’rful hungry. But a feller told me a little bit ago the beef an’ meal was all gone, an’ some of us ’ld have to eat hoss flesh fer our breakfast. Fer my part, I ain’t a hankerin’. I can go purty nigh anything, but I draw the line at hoss-steaks. It’s a sight worse ’n havin’ a lot o’ women in love with you. W’y, Injin, one time so many female genders got in love with me, I——”
The voluble fellow stopped speaking and looked around. The Wyandot had disappeared.
“By my gran’mother’s ear-trumpet!” muttered Joe. “That redskin comes an’ goes like a shadder. S’pose he didn’t like my talk ’bout women-folks. He must ’ave some ol’ love affair ranklin’ in his gizzard. I’m mighty awful hungry, I swan. Well, if I can’t eat, I can smoke.”
And filling and lighting his pipe, he hurried away to procure help in removing the body of the Kentuckian to the place of burial.