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We had better inspect all of our shootin'-irons, fer we may want 'em badly." The frontiersman was right, the Comanches were organising an attack, to be divided into three parts, one party to come from the timber skirting the burn, the second to come up behind the cabin, and the third to make a dash from behind the cattle shed.
"So you could play hookey and cut up all you wanted to?" "You're right, stranger." "They didn't manage that way at Pumpkin Hollow," said Mr. Bickford. "Boys ain't quite so handy with shootin'-irons. When the master flogged us we had to stand it." "Were you afraid of him?" asked the Pike man disdainfully. "Well, I was," Joshua admitted.
I've had a new taste uv decency lately, an' I'm goin' to see ef I can't stan' it for a stiddy diet. The chap over to the shanty sez he ken git me somethin' to do, an' ennythin's better'n gamblin', drinkin', and fightin'. "It's agin the law to kerry shootin'-irons there, Buffle," suggested one. "Yes, an' they got a new kind uv a law there, to keep a man from takin' his bitters," said another.
"Come on." In the next hour, each of the twenty-odd cabins was raided. All ammunition and every rifle, shotgun, and revolver was confiscated. "Come on, you invalids," was Shorty's method. "Shootin'-irons fork 'em over. We need 'em." "Who says so?" was the query at the first cabin. "Two doctors from Dawson," was Shorty's answer. "An' what they say goes. Come on. Shell out the ammunition, too."
"An' it's good for you, stranger," continued the colonel, "that you ain't been long in camp, else some of the boys 'ud put a hole through you for sayin' anything 'gainst Jim; for we all swear by him, we do. He don't carry shootin'-irons, but no feller in camp dares to tackle him; he don't cuss nobody, but ev'rybody does just as he asks 'em to.
Jes' tell me whar them loafers air, an' how many horses they hev got along, an' I'll gin ye the bes' beastis I hev got ter ride, an' a pair o' shootin'-irons and set ye in the valley road on the way home. Ye kin say ye war lost from them."
The instant he raised it above his head to strike Frank, Mr Lathrope catching sight of it, had "drawn a bead on it," as he would have expressed it, without delay. "No, sirree, I guess not, as long as old Zach hain't forgot to handle the shootin'-irons!" he continued. "I fancy, mister, I've spiled your murdering little game; an' now we'll go in for a rough and tumble, I opine!"
Air your shootin'-irons reddy?" Before I had time to reply to his question, the sharp, shrill war-whoop of the Comanches fell upon our ears, ringing out on the still night air with a yell fiendish enough to paralyze the stoutest heart.
'Don't talk to me, you ill-mannered cur, said my host, turning his back on his neighbor, and directing his attention to the remainder of the assemblage. 'Look har, Cunnel, replied the native, 'if ye'll jest come down from thar and throw 'way yer shootin'-irons, I'll give ye the all-firedest thrashing ye ever did get.
"An' so whilst Eveliny runs out a-screamin', 'He's dead! he's dead! ye hev shot him dead! we-uns make no doubt but he is dead, an' load up agin, lest his frien's mought rush in on we-uns whilst we hedn't no use o' our shootin'-irons. An' suddint ye can't hear nuthin' but jes' a owel hoot-in' in the woods, or old Pa'son Bates's dogs a-howlin' acrost the Cove.
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