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Updated: June 17, 2025
They was just as wild as a stampeded steer; she seemed to have growed ten years younger than when I first went up there, and as for Paul, he was in heaven for certain. "First we had to tell her how we'd got the kid, and how we'd learned to love him. All the time we was telling of it, and our scrimmages with the Ingins, she was a crying and hugging Paul as if her heart was broke.
When you light a candle with a bit o' paper, ma'am, don't throw it on the floor an' tramp on it an' think it's out, for many a time there's a small spark left, an' the wind as always blows along the floor sets it up an' it kitches somethin', and there you are blazes an' hollerin' an' ingins goin' full swing in no time.
You see, I went out there in 1826. There warn't no roads, nuthin' but the Santa Fe Trail, in them days, and Ingins and varmints. "There was four of us. Me, Bill Comstock, Dick Curtis, and Al Thorpe. Dick was took in by the Utes two years afterwards at the foot of the Spanish Peaks, and Al was killed by the Apaches at Pawnee Rock, in 1847.
"He and me got to camp keeping off the Ingins, who knowed I was loaded when we, with the rest of the outfit, drove the red devils away. "They was Apaches, and the fellow that shot Thorp was a half-breed nigger and Apache. He scalped Thorp and carred off the whole upper part of his skull with it. He got Thorp's rifle and bullet-pouch too, and his knife.
"As soon as morning broke we'd ketched a nap now and then during the night we got ready for another charge of the Ingins, their favourite time being just 'bout daylight; but there warn't hide or hair of an Ingin in sight. They'd sneaked off in the darkness long before the first streak of dawn; had enough of fighting, I expect.
Joe ain't no runaway nigger, nohow at all, and de Ingins ain't ketched Joe nuther. Joe's back all safe an' sound, sartin sure! Hi!" "What on earth ails you, Joe? You're out of your wits, poor fellow," said Sam, convinced that the black boy was demented. "No I ain't nuther, Mas' Sam," he replied. "Joe ain't crazy one bit, but he's glad sure." "Where have you been, Joe, since you left us?" "Whar?
I'll pay you honestly for it, friend." "I should guess," said the settler, his stern features brightening for the first time into a smile of irony, "as how a man who had served a campaign agin the Ingins and another agin the British, might contrive to do without sich a luxury as bread. You'll find no bread here I reckon." "What, not even a bit of corn bread!
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