“Ay, that’s fair; toss up! toss up!” shouted several.
The hint was adopted; the lots were cast; and the savage belle became the property of the winner.
In the space of a few minutes nearly every mule in the atajo carried an Indian damsel.
Some of the hunters had taken no part in this Sabine proceeding. Some disapproved of it (for all were not bad) from motives of humanity. Others did not care for being “hampered with a squaw,” but stood apart, savagely laughing at the scene.
During all this time Seguin was on the other side of the building with his daughter. He had mounted her upon one of the mules, and covered her shoulders with his serape. He was making such preparations for her journey as the tender solicitudes of the father suggested.
The noise at length attracted him; and, leaving her in charge of his servants, he hurried round to the front.
“Comrades!” cried he, glancing at the mounted captives, and comprehending all that had occurred, “there are too many here. Are these whom you have chosen?” This question was directed to the trapper Rube.
“No,” replied the latter, “them’s ’em,” and he pointed to the party he had picked out.
“Dismount these, then, and place those you have selected upon the mules. We have a desert to cross, and it will be as much as we can do to pass it with that number.”
And without appearing to notice the scowling looks of his followers, he proceeded, in company with Rube and several others, to execute the command he had given.