The two worthies, when first seen, were seated as described—both engaged in a very similar occupation—cooking. It was—by the most simple process—that of the roti. Each held in his hand a long sapling, upon the end of which a piece of red meat was impaled; and this, projected over the fire, was fast blackening in the blaze. More of the same meat—buffalo-beef, it appeared—was seen in the wheelbarrow; its other freight being one or two greasy bags, a brace of knapsacks, a cartouche box and belt, two ordnance spades, with the guns—a “regulation” rifle and musket—lying across the top of the load.
It was evident from this collection that the men were deserters; that they had armed and equipped themselves at the expense of the quartermaster. Perhaps the paymaster had been in arrears with them; and they had adopted this ready and effectual method of wiping out the score? My only wonder was at not seeing a brace of branded horses along with them; but in all probability, on the day—or night—of their departure, the stable sentry had been doing his duty.
On becoming assured of the identity of the two individuals, my first impulse was to step forward to the fire, and make myself known to them. So eagerly were both engaged in attending to their spits, that they had neither seen nor heard us—although they themselves were now silent, and we were within less than twenty feet of them. The intervening bushes, however would have sheltered us from their sight, even if they had been a little more vigilant—as I should have expected Sure-shot to have been. They were trusting all to the thicket in which they had pitched their camp; and, being hungry and wearied no doubt, were for the moment off their guard. Some fantasy decided me not to disturb them for a moment—a sort of curiosity to hear what they would say, and, if possible, discover their whence and whither. We were perfectly within earshot; and could have heard even a whisper passing from their lips—as we could also note the expression upon their faces. A sign to my companion was sufficient; and, crouching behind the leafy screen, we awaited the continuation of the suspended dialogue.
Chapter Forty Five.
The Barrow in Debate.
Our patience was not put to a severe test. O’Tigg was not the man to keep his tongue in tranquillity for any extended time. Neither was Sure-shot an admirer of the silent system. Both were talkers. On this occasion, the “infantry” was the first to make himself heard.
“Be japers! comrayde, I’m afther thinkin’ fwhat purty fools us hiv bin, to tak it afut this way, loike two thramps, whin wez moight ivery bit as wil hav been stroidin’ a pair ov good pownies. We cowld a fitched a pair from the Fort wid all the aize in the wurld.”
“Yees, Petrick, certing ye ain’t fer ’stray ’bout thet pertickler; we’ve been raither ungumptious.”