“Three days at the least: may be four or five.”
“Great gollies! we’ll be froze in half the time.”
“What would they be doin’ here so long? I warrant ye they’ll clar out as soon as they can.”
“So they will; but how can they in less time?”
“They can get all the meat they want in a day. See! yonder’s buffalo a plenty; look! away yonder!” and the speaker points to several black objects outlined against the brightening sky. It is a herd of buffaloes.
“That’s true enough. In half a day I warrant they kin get all the meat they want: but how are they a-goin’ to jirk it in less than three? That’s what I want to know.”
“Es verdad!” says one of the Mexicans, a cibolero; “très dias, al menos!” (It is true—three days, at the least!)
“Ay, hombre! an’ with a smart chance o’ sunshine at that, I guess.”
This conversation is carried on by two or three of the men in a low tone, but loud enough for the rest of us to overhear it.
It reveals a new phase of our dilemma on which we have not before reflected. Should the Indians stay to “jerk” their meat, we will be in extreme danger from thirst, as well as of being discovered in our cache.