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At the same instant my guide gave a low grunt of warning. “What is it?” I asked in a whisper, for there was a strange expression in my companion’s eyes. “It’s—it’s him, so help me!—Keep yer ears open and yer meat-trap shut!” growled Pete. I did so. The trained ear of the hunter had detected the sound of crackling twigs and swishing branches made by some animals in rapid motion.
The woman screamed and resisted, frightened, not at what had been said, for she did not understand it, but terrified by the ruffian expression that was plainly legible in the countenance of the man. "Shut up yer meat-trap, will ye?" cried he, still pulling her towards the mules; "I'm not goin' to eat ye. Wagh! Don't be so skeert. Come! mount hyar. Gee yup!"
As he was hurrying to me as rapidly as possible, I desisted from further inquiry. When Big Pete reached my side he pulled a handkerchief from around my neck and put it over my mouth, making signs which I did not comprehend. At last he put his muffled mouth to my ear and shouted through the cape of his wamus. “Shut yer meat-trap or you’re food for the coyotes. It is the WHITE DEATH!”
Runner laughed in huge delight, and cried: "The world's mighty small after all. Ain't it the truth! So you seen him? Did he have the chunk of johnny-cake in his meat-trap?" "He was friendly to the whites and harmless. It was a poor piece of work." "The reason why we didn't sculp him was that it would 'a' spoiled the joke," defended Hacker.
Keen-eared, and with their senses always about them, Apaches are likely to detect the slightest disturbance. The scout glanced at the horseman, and then at Mickey, who was in earnest. "It's the only way to git the hoss, you lunkhead, so will yer keep yer meat-trap shet?" "I don't want a horse if we've got to murder a man to git the same."
After breakfasting on the remains of the kid, Big Pete arose and scanned the sky, the horizon and the mountain tops, and turning to me said, “Now, Le-loo, that Wild Hunter-b’ar-wolf man has fooled us by doubling on his trail an’ as it hain’t him we’re after now but the trail out of the mountains, I mean to go by sens-see-ation, but you must keep yer meat-trap shut and not speak, ’cause soon as I know I’m a man I hain’t got no more sense than a man.
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