“We had a queer tussle to-night,” the Sky-scraper said, glancing at Gopher Gid. “That old rot-gut peddler lost a linchpin. He tried to cuss it back, but it war the most wasted cussin' you ever heerd of. Then, as I said, he got at the boy thar who came up to help 'im; but jist about that time the Thunderbolt of the Dark-edged Cloud dropped close by 'im. We emptied his cargo—knocked in the heads of his kegs—and left 'im with two of his mules. He war usin' the strongest kind o' language. It was amusin' to hear 'im. Did you ever meet Tanglefoot?”
“He knows me, at any rate,” was Jack's response.
“I'll go with you to the ends of the world after the gal,” said the borderman. “I've nothin' to keep me hyar; no family. The boy—why he can stop hyar till we come back. Gopher, jump off the critter, and let Midnight Jack take the saddle.”
“Not till I look to my own horse,” interposed the road-scourge, before Gopher could spring from the beast. “He went down at the first fire, and I told him to lie still;” and he went to the spot where his black horse still lay, but a glance at the rigid form and the glazed eye told him that he would never ride the faithful animal again.
With clenched lips, and eyes flashing anew, the bandit came back to the two spectators.
“I'll take the mule, boy,” he said, gently, and Gopher Gid slid to the ground. “With a fresh trail ahead, we will overtake the reddies before they reach the big village. I have my doubts whether Tanglefoot was going to Deadwood. The great sun-dance of the Sioux is near at hand; I guess he never misses such an affair as that.”
The night was well advanced when Midnight Jack and his companion bade the unsatisfied boy farewell, and he stood in the darkness like a youth in a dream, listening to the canter of their mules.
Before departure, Midnight Jack had superintended the burial of his horse and the slain savages, so that their bodies would not taint the atmosphere so near the boy's hillside home.
“I'd like to see your sister, Midnight Jack, if she's alive,” he mused, pausing in the low doorway before he shut the portal. “I haven't seen a white girl's face for a year, and I'll never see yours, Dora, I'm thinking. Dora—what's your name?—I'd like to see you. Midnight Jack's sister—that sounds funny.”
The boy could not repress the low laugh that bubbled to his lips, and while it still sounded he shut the door.