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Updated: June 24, 2025
"That wire business," continued the little man in the same monotonous undertone without moving his lips. "Ought to be able to do a little better than that with an edication like yours. Where's the good of Oxford else?" Joses came closer swiftly. "See here, Monkey Brand," he said. "Do you mean business, or don't you?" The jockey's face was inscrutable.
But as Bart gazed up at the flag, he could not help thinking what a mere scrap of coloured cloth it was, and what a very little the Indians would think of it if they determined to come down and attack the camp in their might. "Ease off a bit, Master Bart," cried Joses, after they had all been riding at full gallop for a couple of miles over the plains. "Whoo hoop, my Injun friends! Whoo hoop!"
"There, Master Bart," he said, filling and rinsing out the horn two or three times, "there you are. Drink, my lad, for you want it bad, as I can see." "No, you drink first, Joses," said the lad; but the rough frontier man refused, and it was not until Bart had emptied the horn of what seemed to be the most delicious water he had ever tasted, that Joses would fill and drink.
Joses went down perforce, leaving behind him many debts, a girl behind a bar who was fond of him, and a reputation as a brilliant rogue who might some day prove the poet of the sport of kings.
Joses patted the drinking horse. "There's the beauty," he said. "Suck it down. It'll give you pleasant dreams." Four-Pound-the-Second had his fill by now and moved away. Joses picked up his twitch and made for the door. Monkey placed himself between the fat man and the exit, heavy-lidded, stertorous, and menacing. "One thing," he said. "What's that?"
Not that they were wanted here, for at the end of five minutes he could make out the long bony body of Joses lying beside one of the smaller masses of stone that jagged the summit of the hill. Joses was looking in his direction, and just raising one hand slightly, signed to him to come near.
"Well, see how hard it is when it's cold," grumbled Harry; and then to Juan, "I shan't take no notice of him. You see he's a bit sore." Harry was quite right, poor Joses being so sore that for some days he could not mount his horse, and spent his time in drying the two bear-skins in the sun, and dressing them on the fleshy side, till they were quite soft and made capital mats for the waggon.
Upon reaching the waggon it was to find Joses smiling and sniffing as he stood on the leeward side of the fire, so as to get the full benefit of the odour of the well-done sage grouse which looked juicy brown, and delicious enough to tempt the most ascetic of individuals, while Maude laughed merrily to see the eager glances Bart kept directing at the iron rod upon which the birds had been spitted and hung before the fire.
"But would you have me turn upon them and shoot them, Joses?" said the lad, with all a boy's horror of shedding blood. "Bart, my lad," said Joses, holding out his rough hand, which the boy readily grasped, "if you ask me for a bit of advice, as one who knows pretty well what unfriendly Injun is, I'll give it to you."
Now what's to be done?" "Shall I creep out to him?" said Bart eagerly. "What, you? what good would it do? You don't think you could carry him back like a baby?" "No," said Bart, "but I might help him." "You couldn't help him a bit," growled Joses, "nor more could I. All the good you could do would be to make him clutch you and then down both would go at once, and what's the use of that."
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