“Well, well; he said, in a low v’ice to me, says he, ‘d’ye see that openin’ in the bushes?’ ‘I do,’ says I. ‘Well then,’ says he, ‘it’s about ten yards off; be ready to commence firin’ when it comes to that openin’.’ ‘I will,’ says I. An’, sure enough, when the brown critter came for’id at a walk an’ stopped sudden wi’ a look o’ surprise as if it hadn’t expected to see me, bang went my Winchester four times, like winkin’, an’ up went the deer four times in the air, but niver a bit the worse was he. Snap I went a fifth time; but there was no shot, an’ I gave a yell, for I knew the cartridges was done. By that time the critter had reached the crack in the hill I told ye of, an’ up in the air he went to clear it, like an Indy-rubber ball. I felt a’most like to fling my rifle at it in my rage, when bang! went a shot at my ear that all but deaf’ned me, an’ I wish I may niver fire another shot or furl another t’gallant-s’l if that deer didn’t crumple up in the air an’ drop down stone dead—as dead as it now lays there on the floor.”
By the time Dick Darvall had ended his narrative—which was much more extensive than our report of it—steaks of the deer were sputtering in a frying-pan, and other preparations were being made for a hearty meal, to which all the healthy men did ample justice. Shank Leather did what he could, and even Buck Tom made a feeble attempt to join.
That night a strict watch was kept outside the cave—each taking it by turns, for it was just possible, though not probable, that the outlaws might return to their old haunt. No one appeared, however, and for the succeeding eight weeks the party remained there undisturbed, Shank Leather slowly but surely regaining strength; his friend, Buck Tom, as slowly and surely losing it; while Charlie, Dick, and Hunky Ben ranged the neighbouring forest in order to procure food. Leather usually remained in the cave to cook for and nurse his friend. It was pleasant work to Shank, for love and pity were at the foundation of the service. Buck Tom perceived this and fully appreciated it. Perchance he obtained some valuable light on spiritual subjects from Shank’s changed tone and manner, which the logic of his friend Brooke had failed to convey. Who can tell?
Chapter Twenty Five.
Shows how the Seaman was sent on a Delicate Mission and how he Fared.
“Shank,” said Charlie one day as they were sitting in the sunshine near the outlaws’ cave, waiting for Dick and the scout to return to their mid-day meal, “it seems to me that we may be detained a good while here, for we cannot leave Ralph, and it is evident that the poor fellow won’t be able to travel for many a day—”
“If ever,” interposed Shank sorrowfully.
“Well, then, I think we must send down to Bull’s Ranch, to see if there are any letters for us. I feel sure that there must be some, and the question arises—who are we to send?”