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Updated: June 2, 2025
Not for his life would he have uttered a cry of pain, but he made up his mind that a pale-face can endure a great deal before they got through with him. Supper had to be eaten, and sharp appetites helped them to get away long enough for that duty, but then the brush and comb began again under Sile's instruction. "That there comb won't last long," said Yellow Pine.
I allers used to slug my finds, first thing." That was Greek to Sile, but Yellow Pine rummaged one of the wagons and brought out a long-nosed bellows and a crucible and a sort of mould that opened with two handles. He put the crucible in among the coals, filled it from Sile's yellow heap, covered it, and began to work the bellows.
The idea had been in Sile's head that his proper course was to go about very much as if he were himself about to steal the horses, and his noiseless movements carried him to the outer edge of the corral at exactly the right moment.
They had no such horses as that among all that he and Two Arrows had found for them. The warrior was looking in the opposite direction at the instant, but he was also wheeling his horse, and in a second or so more he caught sight of Sile. He had a lance, but it was slung behind him, and in his hands was as good a repeating-rifle as Sile's own, and he raised it like a flash.
He led on now with his mouth open and panting, for he had given his own last ration of water to Sile Parks and was thirstier than the rest of them. So, for that matter, had Sile's father, but some men suffer more from thirst than others and the judge had held out remarkably. Just inside the range of mesquites Yellow Pine stopped short. "Bufler been killed here inside of two days," he exclaimed.
These brave sons of '76 took no part in the demonstration, but an honored bench was set apart for their exclusive use on the piazza of Sile Smith's store. When they were dry all they had to do was to sing out to Sile's boy, Jerry, "a leetle New Englan' this way, if YOU please." It was brought forthwith.
"My poor boy! are you so thirsty as that? Those are the mountains." Sile's mind distinctly connected the idea of mountains with that of water, and he took off his hat and swung it, vainly trying to hurrah. "They're a long way off yet, but we can get there. Old Pine is right." It was wonderfully good news, but every man had been allowed to gather it for himself.
The current caught it and whirled it away, the polished silver glittering and dancing near the surface, but it was visible only for an instant. There came a rush and a plunge, and away out of the water sprang a splendid trout with Sile's hook fastened firmly in his too hasty jaw. "Hurrah!" shouted Sile. "Got him!" "Ugh! Good," said Two Arrows. "Break!" "No, he won't break any line. See!"
They had hardly ridden an hour when the foremost warriors made the air ring with whoops of wrath, and in a moment more the word "pale-face" was passing from rider to rider. They had found the victim of Sile's marksmanship, and the fact that he had not been scalped put away the idea that he had fallen before a Nez Percé.
Sile's father was an enthusiastic fisherman and had given his son more than a little good schooling. Up went the rod, and the line swing lightly back for a second, and then, with a perfect cast, the brilliant "spoon" flew over the water and alighted among the swift ripples.
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