“I didn’t hear ’em until they were right on top of me; and I couldn’t get away without being seen,” said he; “so I just waded out and imitated a rock with my head.”
We roared with laughter by way of relief.
“It isn’t the first time, Johnny,” said I.
“That’s all right,” put in Missouri Jones. “This is no joke. They got three of our hosses.”
Then he told us his experience.
“I was just a-browning of the venison,” he explained, “when I happened to look up, and thar was three of our hosses running off, tails up, and a half dozen Injuns a hoss-back driving ’em. I let drive with old Betsey and Johnny’s gun, but they was about out of range. While I was looking after them about forty Injuns went past sky-hootin’. I suppose they thought the first lot had all the hosses, and so they didn’t stop. The rest of the hosses, luckily, was 229 asleep behind the cottonwoods. You bet I didn’t call their attention to myself.”
He exhibited the greatest satisfaction when he learned that we had accounted for four.
“That’s something like Injun fighting,” he observed, “though these are a pore, spiritless lot. The whole bag ain’t worth more than one of them good hosses.”
We did no more gold washing that day, but remained close in camp, consumed with anxiety for our companions. From time to time we fired a rifle, with the idea of warning them that something was amiss. The remaining half-dozen horses we ran into the corral.
Night fell and still the hunters did not return. We were greatly alarmed and distressed, but we could not think of anything to do, for we had not the least idea in what direction to look.