“To Saint Vrain’s.”
“Ah! For what purpose?”
“For the only purpiss thet kin sarve our purpise: an’ thet air to git a wheen o’ mounting men as kin lend us a han’ in this bisness. Without thet, we’d hev as much chance to rescoo the captives—ef thar be any sech—as for a kripple to catch a Kit-fox.” (Note 1.)
“Do you think we should find any there?”
“I’m sartint we will. The darkey hez tolt us o’ a party that passed the wagins on thar way. No doubt they war boun’ for the Fort. Besides, I met sev’ral fellurs last seeson while I war trappin’ on the Collyrado, as sayed they war goin’ east, an’ intended makin’ stop at Saint Vrain’s on thar way. I shedn’t be serprised ef we foun’ fifty on ’em thar now. Helf o’ the number will be enuf to chestise Yellur Chief an’ his gang o’ freebooters. Thurfor let’s go to the Fort right away, an’ see what kin be done.”
“I’m with you, ’Lije! We must lose no time! Think of the danger she may be in; that is, if not past all danger already. Oh, I fear to reflect on it.”
“Ye’re right, ’bout not losin’ time,” said the trapper, without noticing the last exclamatory remark. “Same time,” he added, “’twon’t do for us tu make too much haste, else we mout find it the wuss speed, as the spellin’ book used ter say. We must keep clost in to the bottom o’ the bluffs in goin’ torst Saint Vrain’s; else them Injuns may spy us. Ef they shood, we’ll be in for a ugly scrape; an’ not like to git clar o’t ’ithout sheddin’ the skins o’ our two skulls. Wagh! thet ere wudn’t be no way agreeable; an’ ef’t wa’n’t thet thar’s a gurl in the questin, whose life, an’ somethin’ else, oughter be saved, I’d a stayed hyur to finish my breakfust, and let Yellur Chief an’ his cut-throats go straight to custrut to—darnation! But come, Ned! we’re a wastin’ time, an’ I know you don’t weesh thet. Hyur now nigger! you help wi’ the saddlin’ o’ these hosses. Ef you’ve been brought up ’bout Squire Blackedder’s stables I reck’n you know somethin’ ’bout hosses. An’ harkee, boy! we two air goin’ away a bit. So you keep clost in this hyur hole, till we kum back agin’. You kin rest yur black karkidge inside that thar tent, whar ye’ll find somethin’ in the way o’ buffler meat to keep yur ivories from chatterin’. Don’t eet it all, d’ye heer. We may come back sharp-set; an’ ef thar’s nothin’ left, may take it into our heads to eet you.”
While this talk was going on, two horses were led forth from a cave in the cliff that served them for stable.
Both being quickly accoutred, the trappers sprang into their respective saddles; and spurring towards the cañon, were soon plunging between its shadowy walls, on their way to the outward plain.
Sixty seconds spent in wading, and they emerged dripping into the light of day. More of it than they wished for: since the sun was now fairly up, his disc appearing some two or three degrees above the prairie horizon.