The captain and Cully are the two first who interrogate.
“Can we be sure it’s you, Walt?” is the interrogatory put by his old officer. “Is it yourself?”
“Darn me ef I know, cap. Jess now I ain’t sure o’ anythin’, arter what’s passed. Specially meetin’ you wi’ the rest o’ the boys. Say, cap, what’s fetched ye out hyar?”
“You.”
“Me!”
“Yes; we came to bury you.”
“Yis, hoss,” adds Cully, confirming the captain’s statement. “We’re on the way to gie burial to your bones, not expecting to find so much flesh on ’em. For that purpiss we’ve come express all the way from Peecawn Crik. An’ as I know’d you had a kindly feelin’ for yur ole shootin’-iron, I’ve brought that along to lay it in the grave aside o’ ye.”
While speaking, Cully slips out of his saddle and gives his old comrade a true prairie embrace, at the same time handing him his gun.
Neither the words nor the weapon makes things any clearer to Walt, but rather add to their complication. With increased astonishment he cries out,—
“Geehorum! Am I myself, or somebody else? Is’t a dream, or not? That’s my ole shootin’ stick, sartin. I left it over my hoss, arter cuttin’ the poor critter’s throat. Maybe you’ve got him too? I shedn’t now be surprised at anythin’. Come, Nat; don’t stan’ shilly-shallyin’, but tell me all about it. Whar did ye git the gun?”