“Now I kin jabber a lettle o’ most all o’ them, but better Delaware, fer as you may know, I hed one—Delaware Tom they called the cuss—fer a pardner, well-nigh two years. So as the lad—durn the luck!—hes got rub—inter trouble I mean, an’ cain’t go fer help, why I ’termined to try an’ sneak through them imps thar. I knowed thar was no use tryin’ to play the runnygade as he did, fer the imps’ll be on the keen look-out thar, an’ this was the only chaince. An’ a durned slim one, too, but better’n stayin’ here.”
“We will try, but I fear ’tis a hopeless case. If they make another steady rush, we must go down before it. If we do, and you get free, Tom, promise me one thing: that you’ll not forget Clara? You’ll hunt for her?”
“No, I won’t, nuther.”
“What!”
“Jest so. Give a fool answer fer a fool question, is my motter, al’ays. Ain’t I a man—a white man, too, ef so be you rub a lettle o’ the outside dirt off? Then in course I’ll do it—I ain’t a dog nor nothin’, I reckon. But don’t fret. We’ll all hunt together. I’ll git you free. See ef I don’t, now.”
As he spoke, the old guide glided toward the river, accompanied by Calhoun. But as he hung his legs over the edge of the bank, Maxwell suddenly added:
“Look here—ef you see or hear a feller shoot this-a-way, from out thar, nigh to the river, don’t you shoot back, onless you aim at that big star, yonder. Mought hurt somebody, ef you did. He’s a powerful poor shooter, that fellow’ll be, when he minds to. Shouldn’t wonder ef he’ll miss the hull intire train, wagons an’ all,” chuckled Tom.
“You mean you’ll fire from there?”
“Yas. Must throw dust in the red-skins’ eyes, ye see, or else they’ll some on ’em be snoopin’ ’round to see who I be, which moughtn’t be pleasant. Ef they see me a-shootin’ this-a-way, they’ll natur’lly s’pose it’s one o’ themselves, slid out to play a lone hand. See?”
“Yes—I understand.”