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Updated: June 5, 2025
For a quarter of an hour she went on at a slapping pace, clearing the moose-bushes with bound after bound, flying over the fallen logs, pausing neither for brook nor ravine. The baying of the hounds grew fainter behind her. But she struck a bad piece of going, a dead-wood slash. It was marvellous to see her skim over it, leaping among its intricacies, and not breaking her slender legs.
The miners began to gather; there were other whoops, and cheers, and the gay beating of gold pans, like gongs, until it seemed as though the whole camp was on hand. A booted, whiskered, "rough and ready" crowd they made, too. "Well, Eph, what's the trouble? Somebody got the dead-wood on you?" demanded a strapping big miner in torn red shirt and prodigious boots. He seemed to be a sort of a leader.
The trappers at first were afraid the savages would surely try to kill the mules, but soon reflected that the Indians believed they had the "dead-wood" on them, and the mules would come handy after they had been scalped; so they felt satisfied their animals were safe for a while anyhow.
"In other words, some free-lance has made a bid to break your corner on the crime market, eh?" he jeered. "Put one over on you without your knowledge and consent? And without splitting two ways? That what you mean?" "I mean that I'd pay five hundred dollars out of my own pocket right now for the dead-wood on the man who robbed Kemble." "Kid Rickard is around once more; sure he didn't do it?"
"Very well," replied Francois; "but if he should miss, it's no harm for me to be ready." Basil had already risen, and was silently making for the guns. On reaching them, he took the long rifle, and turned in the direction of the game. At the same moment Francois armed himself with his double-barrel. The tree up which the squirrel had run was what is termed a "dead-wood."
Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here.
In this connection we mention the fact, that all screw-ships "by the wind" have a strong tendency to gripe. Would not this be obviated by having a gate or slide to fill out the dead-wood when the screw is lifted?
I don't know what there's been between you and her, but the Mormon church is between you now and it's got the dead-wood on you. It's either that for her, or Montoyo. He knows; he's no fool and he'll take his time. So you'd better stick to mule-whacking and sowbelly." Still it was only decent that I should inquire after her. No Daniel and no "Bonnie Bravo" was going to shut me from my duty.
Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here.
"There is not much fight in a Digger unless he's got the dead-wood on you, and then he'll make it rough for you. The speaker was a very red-faced, sandy-haired man, with blood-shot blue eyes, whom I met on his return to the Humboldt country after a visit to San Francisco. "Did you ever shoot an Indian?" I asked. "I first went up into the Eel River country in '46," he answered.
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