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"Here, Miss Molly, gal," said he, holding out some object in his hand. "We both got a arrer through the shoulder, an' mine's a'most well a'ready. Ain't nothin' in the world like a good chaw o' tobackers to put on a arrer cut. Do-ee, now!"
But she's not bad she's comin' through?" Molly Wingate, who stood ready now with bandages, told him how alike the two arrow wounds had been. "Take an' chaw tobacker, ma'am," said he. "Put a hunk on each side, do-ee mind, an' she'll be well." "Go on and tell us the rest," someone demanded. "Not much to tell that ye couldn't of knew, gentlemen," resumed the scout.
Jackson rose in his stirrups, dropped his lead line and forsook more than a hundred and fifty thousand dollars some two mule-pack loads of gold. His own yell rose high in answer. "I told ye all the world'd be here!" he shouted back over his shoulder. "Do-ee see that old thief Jim Bridger? Him I left drunk an' happy last summer? Now what in hell brung him here?"
Again the fear-smitten Chardon adjusted the filled cup, this time on his master's bared head. "Do-ee turn her sideways now, boy," cautioned Bridger. "Set the han'le sideways squar', so she looks wide. Give him a fa'r shot now, fer I'm interested in this yere thing, either way she goes. Either I lose ha'r er a mule."
Do-ee see 'em over yan ridge thousands?" The others felt their nerves jump as they topped the ridge and saw fully the vast concourse of giant black-topped, beard-fronted creatures which covered the plateau in a body a mile and more across a sight which never failed to thrill any who saw it. It was a rolling carpet of brown, like the prairie's endless wave of green.
"Once they gits ye, they likes ye to stop. 'Taint like the fash'nable quality what says to their friends: 'Do-ee come an' stay wi' me, loveys! wishin' all the while as they wouldn't. Portland takes ye willin', whether ye likes it or not, an' keeps ye so fond that ye can't git away nohow. Oncommon 'ospitable Portland be!" And he broke into a harsh laugh.
"Ye got to pray to the Great Speret when-all ye hunt, men," he explained. "An' ye got to have someone that can call the buffler, as the Injuns calls that when they hunt on foot. I kin call 'em, too, good as ary Injun. Why shouldn't I? "Thar now!" he exclaimed within the next quarter of an hour. "What did Jim Bridger tell ye? Lookee yonder! Do-ee say Jim Bridger can't make buffler medicine?
"Do-ee see the tracks? Here's Greenwood come in. Yan's where Woodhull's wagons left the road. Below that, one side, is the tracks o' Banion's mules." "I wonder," he added, "why thar hain't ary letter left fer none o' us here at the forks o' the road." He did not know that, left in a tin at the foot of the board sign certain days earlier, there had rested a letter addressed to Miss Molly Wingate.
"Oh, Marie says she's a blonde. The 'raving beauty' sort. I detest that kind. I know she's vain." "Yes, she is. I hate to speak against another girl, but I know that Patty Fairfield, and she IS vain." "Well, never mind about Patty Fairfield She doesn't interest me a bit. But what about you? Will you come to the party? Oh, DO-ee, DO- ee, now, as my old Scotch nurse used to say.
"For," said she, "when Miss Maryllia first come 'ome she 'adn't an idee o' goin' to hear Passon Walden, an' sez I 'do-ee go an' hear 'im, an' she sez 'No, Spruce, I cannot, I don't believe in it' an' I sez to myself, 'never mind, the Lord 'e knows 'is own, which He do, but 'ard as are His ways I never did think He'd a' brought her to be Passon's wife, that do beat me, though it's just what it should be, an' if the Lord don't know what should be why then no one don't, an' that 'minds me o' when I sent for Passon to see me unpack Miss Maryllia's boxes, he was that careful he made me pick up a pair o' pink shoes what 'ad fell on the floor 'Take care o' them, he sez Lor! now I come to think of it, he was mortal struck over them pink shoes!"
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