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With ears erect and short white tail bobbing among the broom-sedge, the little quivering creature darted straight toward the low brow of a hill, where a squadron of cavalry made a blue patch on the green. "Geriminy! thar goes a good dinner," Pinetop gasped, smacking his lips. "An' I've got to save this here load for a Yankee I can't eat."
"It serves him right," said Dan sternly, "and that's what I like about Pinetop, Jack, there's no ruffling him." He brushed off the bee that had fallen on his head, and dodged as it angrily flew back again.
His courage had all the gayety of his passions it showed itself in a smile, in a whistle, in the steady hand with which he played toss and catch with fate. The superb silence of Pinetop, plodding evenly along, was as far removed from him as the lofty grandeur of the mountains.
Then the smile went out, and his face grew suddenly grave, for, as the book fell open in his hand, he saw that it was the first primer of a child, and on the thumbed and tattered page the word "RAT" stared at him in capital letters. "By George, man!" he exclaimed beneath his breath, as he turned from Pinetop to the blazing logs.
The country is a beautiful one, well watered from abundant rains and well wooded, possibly a bit more favored than the present settlements of Showlow, Pinetop and Lakeside, which lie just north of the reservation line. There is reference in a letter of Llewellyn Harris, in July, 1878, to the settlement of Forest Dale, but the name is found in writings several months before.
Pinetop, with a wooden bucket on his arm, had plunged off in search of water, and Dan and Jack Powell were sent, in the interests of the mess, to forage through the surrounding country. "There's a fat farmer about ten miles down, I saw him," remarked a lazy smoker, by way of polite suggestion. "Ten miles?
All the deeper knowledge, which he had bought with his youth for the price, had passed over his cousin like the clouds, leaving him merely gay and kind as he had been of old. "Hello, Beau!" called Champe, stretching out his hand as he drew near. "I just heard you were over here, so I thought I'd take a look. How goes the war?" Dan refilled his pipe and borrowed a light from Pinetop.
The hovering enemy, grown bolder, had fallen upon the flank, and the stragglers and the rear guard were beating off the cavalry, when a regiment was sent back to relieve the pressure. Returning, Pinetop, who was of the attacking party, fell gravely to moralizing upon the scarcity of food.
"Wall, I thought you'd joke," replied Pinetop blushing, "and I knew yo' nigger would." "Joke? Good Lord!" exclaimed Dan. "Do you think I was born with so short a memory, you scamp? Where are those nights on the way to Romney when you covered me with your overcoat to keep me from freezing in the snow?
I got rid of my rations long ago. Pinetop says a man can't starve in blackberry season, and I hope he's right. Anyway, the Lord will provide or he won't, that's certain." "Is this the reward of faith, I wonder?" said Dan, as he looked at a lame old negro who wheeled a cider cart and a tray of green apple pies down a red clay lane that branched off under thick locust trees.
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