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Updated: June 20, 2025
"Bajan, ninas, bajan! aprisa, aprisa!" The ladders rest upon the upper terraces. The girls cannot move them. Their late masters stand beside them, frowning and silent. "Lay holt thar!" cries Garey, again threatening with his piece; "lay holt, and help the gals down, or I'll fetch some o' yerselves a-tumblin' over!" "Lay holt! lay holt!" shouted several others in a breath.
I thought 'twur some sneaking Injun. Who are 'ee, anyhow? 'Tain't Bill Garey? No, Billee, 'tain't you, ole fellur." "No," said I, recovering from my surprise; "it's not Bill." "I mout 'a guessed that. Bill wud 'a know'd me sooner. He wud 'a know'd the glint o' this niggur's eyes as I wud his'n. Ah! poor Billee!
"How are you to get it down?" cried one of the men, who had stepped forward to witness the settlement of this curious dispute. There was no reply, for everyone saw that Garey was poising his rifle for a shot. The crack followed; and the branch, shivered by his bullet, bent downward under the weight of the gruya. But the bird, caught in a double fork, still stuck fast on the broken limb.
As she approaches, the men murmur their admiration. There are hearts beating under hunting-shirts that rarely deign to dream of the charms of woman. I am struck at this moment with the appearance of the young trapper Garey. His face has fallen, the blood has forsaken his cheeks, his lips are white and compressed, and dark rings have formed round his eyes.
Several others, observing this movement on the part of Garey, dismounted, and followed his example. A deep silence prevailed as they narrowed the diameters of their circling courses. In a short time they were close in to the motte, yet still no arrow whizzed out. Was there no one there? So it seemed; and the men pushed fearlessly into the thicket. I watched all this with excited feelings.
Their dresses were burned off; but by the parts that remained still intact from the fire, we could easily recognise to what party each had belonged. The greater number of them were Navajoes. There were also the bodies of hunters smoking inside their cindery shirts. I thought of Garey; but, as far as I could judge, he was not among them. There were no scalps for the Indians to take.
Garey to call on you to-day for the medallion to go to Waterford, and the one for New York, if ready . . . one of which I wish to send to Mr. Abel Adams. All our friends find the likeness some of them slowly but all at last. We all count it a beautiful possession; the gift of a Muse, and not the less valuable that it was so unexpected.
His bow was before him. It was a splendid sight, both horse and rider, as they rose together over the green swells of the prairie; a picture more like that of some Homeric hero than a savage of the wild west. "Wagh!" exclaimed one of the hunters in an undertone; "how they glitter! Look at that 'ar headpiece! It's fairly a-blazin'!" "Ay," rejoined Garey, "we may thank the piece o' brass.
We ran up to ascertain what it was. "Caspita!" again ejaculated the man. "It is a white bow!" "A white bow, by gosh!" echoed Garey. "A white bow!" shouted several others, eyeing the object with looks of astonishment and alarm. "That belonged to a big warrior, I'll sartify," said Garey. "Ay," added another, "an' one that'll ride back for it as soon as holies! look yonder! he's coming by !"
"They'll be tired o' waitin' on us, whar they are," rejoined Garey, "unless blacktails is plentier among them Musquites than I think for." "Vaya!" exclaimed Sanchez; "they may thank the Santisima they were not in our company! I'm spent to a skeleton. Mira! carrai!" Our horses were at length bridled and saddled, and our lassoes coiled up. Still the vidette had not warned us.
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