“But by binding yourself,” suggested I, “you draw pay and rations; whereas—”
“Durn pay an rashuns!” exclaimed the old trapper, striking the butt of his rifle upon the prairie. “Durn pay an rashuns! Young fellur, I fights for revenge!”
This was said in an energetic and conclusive manner, and I urged my advice no further.
“Look hyur, cap!” continued the speaker in a more subdued tone. “Though I ain’t a-gwine to jine yur fellurs, yet thur ur a favour I wud axe from yur; an thet is, to let me an Bill keep by you, or foller whuriver you lead. I don’t want to spunge for rashuns; we’ll git thet ef thur’s a head o’ game in Mexiko, an ef thur ain’t, why we kin eat a Mexikin. Can’t we, Bill?—eh, boyee?”
Garey knew this was one of Rube’s jokes, and laughingly assented; adding at the same time, that he would prefer eating any other “sort o’ a vamint.”
“Ne’er a mind!” continued Rube: “we ain’t a-gwine to starve. So, young fellur, ef you agrees to our goin on them tarms, yu’ll heve a kupple o’ rifles near you thet won’t miss fire—they won’t.”
“Enough! You shall go and come as you please. I shall be glad to have you near me, without binding you to any term of service.”
“Hooray!—thet’s the sort for us! Kum, Billee!—gie’s another suck out o’ yur gourd. Hyur’s success to the Stars and Stripes! Hooray for Texas!”