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Updated: June 14, 2025
His head suddenly became clear, and his weakness passed from him like the lifting of some depressing cloud. He found himself able to put forth a last exertion, and at this juncture he was somehow standing at Rube's side, instead of at his back. Of one accord, and without a word, they charged the howling mob.
"Wal, leaving out man-meat, as you say," remarked one of the hunters, in answer to Rube's question, "a muss-rat's the meanest thing I ever set teeth on." "I've chawed sage-hare raw at that," said a second, "an' I don't want to eat anything that's bitterer." "Owl's no great eatin'," added a third. "I've ate skunk," continued a fourth; "an' I've ate sweeter meat in my time."
Then with the same upheaval of his giant frame, the same flinging of long arms and lunging forward, the Rube delivered a third drop. And Berne failed to hit it. The voiceless bleachers stamped on the benches and the grand stand likewise thundered. Callopy showed his craft by stepping back and lining Rube's high pitch to left.
He looked very magnificent and dignified, and younger than Rube had at first supposed him to be. But it was the rider at the chief's side a rider astride of a lank, piebald prairie pony who arrested Rube's closest attention. There were but two feathers in his simple war bonnet, which was partly hidden by his blue-and-white blanket.
Rube's obvious conclusion was that it was not an animal, but a man she had attacked; that she had bitten him severely, and that he had used his knife in defending himself. But who that man might be, or why the hound should attack him, Rube could not even conjecture.
He seemed to be holding himself back from walking right into the ball. And he hit one high and far away. The fast Carl could not get under it, though he made a valiant effort. Spears scored and Rube's long strides carried him to third. The cold crowd in the stands came to life; even the sore bleachers opened up.
No; it would have been impossible for any man, with only a knife, to have fought his way through so many. Moreover, I did not observe any commotion among the savages, as if an enemy had escaped them. None seemed to have gone off from the spot. What then had ? Ha! I now understood, in its proper sense, Rube's jest about his scalp. It was not a double-entendre, but a mot of triple ambiguity.
What puzzled him most was the spokesman's declaration that he wore the totem sign of his chief. For so he understood the scout's gestures. Falling Water was apparently dissatisfied, for he closely questioned the witness, whose answer, partly in the Crow tongue and partly in pantomime, threw a flood of light upon Rube's perplexity.
In a few minutes Rube was seen returning, and by his side the "old 'oman," in the shape of a long, lank, bare-ribbed, high-boned mustang, that turned out on close inspection to be a mare! This, then, was Rube's squaw, and she was not at all unlike him, excepting the ears. She was long-eared, in common with all her race: the same as that upon which Quixote charged the windmill.
"An' when d'you purpose startin' on this yer outlandish trip, abandonin' the delights o' civilization?" Gideon inquired. "It's the fust I've heard of it. You ain't bin makin' no preparations. When d'you reckon on startin'?" Kiddie glanced aside at Rube. "As soon's Rube's ready," he announced. "Why, I bin ready fer days an' days," said Rube.
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