Then he lay down, protruding his pipe-bowl beneath the hat, and striking a match, ignited the pipe without betraying a light larger than that of a glow-worm.
“You see, some things kin be did ’s well ’s others, ef so be you know jest how to do it. But as I was sayin’, I kin smell that pesky varmint, Dusky Dick. Dif’rent folks is dif’rent, you know, but then they’re all alike, too, a’ter all. Now then thar’s Miss Clary; she smells jest like a gre’t big bnn’le o’ posies, figur’tively speakin’, in course. Then thar’s you—sorter like a persimming. Ef a feller bites you at the wrong time, why he’d a heap ruther squat down bar’-legged onto a big ho’nets’ nest than to do it ag’in. But ef the sign is right, then it’s jest like b’iled honey, unly more so. Then ag’in, furder an’ more so, thar’s Jack Wilson. He smells jest like a bottle o’ pepper-sass. A lettle is mighty good, but ef you gits too much, why you’re boun’ to sneeze an’ go a-milkin’. So Dusky Dick smells like a copperhead or a rattler. I tell you he’s thar, all ready for bitin’, for I smells ’im!” earnestly declared Maxwell, smoking vigorously.
“Look out yonder, Tom, where that little ridge of sand ends,” suddenly whispered Calhoun, touching the old guide upon the shoulder. “What is that long, dark thing?”
After a moment’s scrutiny of the suspicious-looking object, Maxwell replied:
“It looks su’thin’ like a chunk cut out o’ a black cloud, don’t it? Reckon ’tain’t, though, come to think. Would be a Injun ef ’twasn’t somethin’ else. ’Sides, it’s too big an’ too long an’ too much so all over, for a red. ’Tain’t a canoe, nuther, ’cause thar hain’t no water thar. I’d go out an’ ax its name, on’y I’m ’feered it’d rare up an’ onsettle my supper,” slowly drawled the old guide, evidently talking from mere force of habit, without heeding what he said.
“It surely moves—see! It’s closer now than when I first noticed it!” anxiously added Calhoun, nervously handling his rifle.
“Easy—easy, boss, or you’ll skeer the durned thing so bad it’ll run off, right spang-a-diddle through us,” continued Tom, the while keenly eying the nondescript. “It does move, by ge-mently! but I don’t see no legs, an’ it ain’t no sarpint, ’less it’s swallered its own head an’ tail. Mebbe it’s a whale?”
One of the emigrants now came up beside them, and called their attention to a similar object at a little distance to the left, that had puzzled the others in the same manner.
“Good gracious, boss,” exclaimed Tom, in a vexed tone, “thar’s jest the biggest set o’ fools ’round these diggin’s as was ever got together in one heap, I jest bet my pile! They was fools for thinkin’ they could fool us with them, an’ we was bigger fools for gittin’ fooled by them dratted fool logs! It’s the beatin’est foolery ’at I ever knowed!”
These words explained the mystery, and the others were as greatly surprised as had been the old scout, that they had not penetrated the ruse sooner.