“My nerves,” sez Tank, “my pore nerves. I can’t sleep, an’ I can’t keep my senses if I’m left tied to this tree any longer. It’s all his fault, an’ as soon as this log burns up, I’m goin’ ta hunt him down.”
Tank an’ I argued fierce as long as we could think of anything to say; an’ just as the dead pine was gettin’ too hot for Tank to stand it any longer, Horace calls in from the darkness, “Don’t you want me to rub your brow a while an’ see if that won’t put you to sleep?”
“Come in here,” I sez, cross. “This man is liable to kill himself, an’ you know more about nerves ’n I do.”
Horace crawled out from behind a big rock, came in, shiverin’ with the cold; an’ we untied Tank from the log. He had managed to get his feet loose; but his hands had been tied behind him an’ when they got cold, he couldn’t make a go of it. “Well,” sez I, as soon as Tank was free, “what are you goin’ to do now?”
“I move we get up the hosses, an’ start at once,” sez Tank. “I don’t trust myself any longer, an’ we can ride faster at night. My one hope, is to get to an Injun doctor, or else get so tired out that I can fall into a dreamless sleep.”
“Why don’t you ride alone?” demanded Horace with a sudden burst of intelligence. “Why don’t you ride alone; an’ then you could ride as fast as you wanted to, an’ if you found the Injuns out o’ humor, you could come back an’ let us know.”
This set us back for a minute: we had been playin’ Horace for bein’ utterly thought-loose; but he had figured out the best plan the’ was, an’ his eyes were bright an’ eager.
“Take the hoss that’s fastened on the rope here,” Horace went on; “an’ we can take the manacled hosses in the mornin’ and foller ya. Yes, that’s the best plan.”
You see the fact was, we were only twenty or twenty-five miles from the ranch house. We had been circlin’ an’ zig-zaggin’ through the hills, an’ at night we hung up Horace’s pony on a picket an’ put hobbles on the balance. Bein’ fooled on direction wasn’t any sign of Horace bein’ a complete lunkhead; I’ve known a heap o’ wise ones get balled up in the mountains.
Tank stood puzzlin’ over it with his free eye trottin’ about in a circle; but he couldn’t think any way out of it. “All right,” sez he, “if you two can get along without me, why, I’ll risk my life by bein’ a scout.”