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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Hang Charleton, he promised to take me out after wild horses!" "He generally goes by himself." Jimmy mounted his horse. "He's a lone hunter, Charleton." "When are you folks going to be married?" asked Douglas. Jimmy turned his roan homeward. "I don't know," he answered soberly. "I wish I could have gone with Charleton," remarked Douglas, watching Judith as she rubbed Sioux's head. "Charleton!
McDermott plied his weapon, and ever and anon he would utter some pessimistic word, or presage dire disaster, or remind Casey that his scalp was destined to dry in a Sioux's lodge, or call on Shane to hit something to save his life, or declare the engine was off the track. He rambled on. But it was all talk. The man had gray hairs and he was a born fighter.
"Hold up!" shouted Charleton. "Something's going to happen!" The Mormon's bull had broken his halter and had turned to meet the on-coming Sioux. Sioux's bloodshot eyes fell on the stranger, and instantly the battle was joined. Snow flew. The buck fence crashed.
His unexpected appearance, his voice ringing like the blare of a trumpet through the cavern, his tall figure with the outstretched accusing arm and finger, the sharp challenge of the Sioux's lie with what they all knew to be the truth, produced an effect utterly indescribable.
"I can follow the talk of a Pawnee," he said, "or wag my jaw, if so be necessity bids me to speak, by a Sioux's council-fire and I can patter Canadian French with the hunters who come for peltries to Nachitoches or Thichimuchimachy; but from the tongue of a Frenchwoman, with white flour on her head, and war-paint on her face, the Lord deliver poor Natty Pumpo." "Amen and amen!" said Tom Coxswain.
Peter mounted Yankee, whistled to Sister, and with a rueful grin and shake of his head for the audience, he trotted from the corral. Judith loosened the bridle-chain and jumped once more into Sioux's saddle. "Pull off his blindfold, Doug!" she cried. "Nothing doing," returned Douglas succinctly. "You get off that bull, Jude, before I take you off."
Knife in hand, he waited for a horned, glittering-eyed face to stoop or an arrow or hatchet to glance under that low rim, the horizon of his darkness. His chagrin at having taken to a trap and drawn danger on a woman was poignant; the candle had caught him like a moth, and a Sioux would keenly follow. Still, no lightest step betrayed the Sioux's knowledge of his whereabouts.
Then I knew the quarrel on the beach was at its height; and Louis Laplante was still foiling the Sioux's approach to Miriam's wigwam like a deft fencer. "Follow me, Little Fellow," I commanded. "Have your knife ready," and I had not finished speaking when three shrill whistles came from Louis. 'Twas his old-time signal of danger.
"If Spencer's bull kills mine, he'll pay for it!" cried Nelson. "If they work into the corral," shouted Douglas, "some of you help me put up the fence again and we'll have them!" "Well, but don't stop the fight." Young Jeff gesticulated excitedly. "I'm going to put up ten on Sioux!" "Take you!" said Scott. Nelson's bull ripped Sioux's flank for six inches and blood spurted to the ground.
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