Garey now leaped from his horse, and taking hold of his comrade by the “claws,” drew him out of his singular hiding-place. But the appearance of the old trapper, as he stood erect—red, reeking, and greasy—was so supremely ludicrous, that both Garey and I were driven off into a fresh fit of laughter, which lasted for several minutes.
Rube, once released from his uncomfortable situation, paid not the slightest attention to our mirth; but stooping down, drew out his long rifle—from where he had secured it under the hanging skin—and after having examined the piece, to see that no harm had come to it, he laid it gently across the horns of the bull. Then taking the bowie from his belt, he quietly proceeded with the skinning of the buffalo, as if nothing had happened to interrupt the operation!
Meanwhile Garey and I had laughed ourselves hoarse, and, moreover, were brimful of curiosity to know the particulars of Rube’s adventure; but for some time he fought shy of our queries, and pretended to be “miffed” at the manner in which we had welcomed him to life again.
It was all pretence, however, as Garey well knew; and the latter, having thrust into his comrade’s hand the gourd, still containing a small drop of aguardiente, soon conciliated him; and after a little more coaxing, the old trapper condescended to give us the details of his curious escapade. Thus ran his narration:—
“Ee wur both o’ yur mighty green to think thet arter fightin grizzly bar an Injun for nigh forty yeern on these hyur parairas, I wur a-gwine to be rubbed out by a spunk o’ fire like thet. Preehaps ’twur nat’ral enough for the young fellur hyur to take me for a greenhorn—seein as he oncest tuk me for a grizzly. He, he, he—ho, ho, hoo! I say it wur, an ur nat’ral enough for him to a thort so; but you mout a knowd better—you, Bill Garey, seein as ee oughter knowd me.
“Wal!” continued Rube, after another “suck” at the gourd, “when I seed the weeds afire, I knowd it wa’nt no use makin tracks. Preehaps if I’d a spied the thing when the bleeze fust broke out, I mout a run for it, an mout a hed time; but I wur busy skinnin this hyur beest, wi’ my head clost down to the karkidge, an thurfor didn’t see nuthin till I heern the cracklin, an in coorse thur wa’nt the ghost o’ a chance to git clur then. I seed thet at the fust glimp.
“I ain’t a-gwine to say I wa’nt skeeart; I wur skeeart an bad skeeart too. I thort for a spell, I wur boun to go under.
“Jest then I sot my eyes upon the burner. I hed got the critter ’bout half-skinned, as ee see; an the idee kim inter my head, I mout crawl somehow under, an pull the hide over me. I tried thet plan fust; but I kudnt git kivered to my saterfaction, an I gin it up.
“A better idee then kim uppermost, an thet wur to clur out the anymal’s inside, an thur caché. I reck’n I wa’nt long in cuttin out a wheen o’ the buffer’s ribs, an tarin out the guts; an I wa’nt long neyther in squezzin my karkidge, feet fo’most, through the hole.
“I hedn’t need to a been long; it wur a close shave an a tight fit, it wur. Jest as I hed got my head ’bout half through, the bleeze kim swizzin round, an nearly singed the ears off me. He, he, he—ho, ho, hoo!”