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Thur ain't many o' them about, I reckin. Load sure, young fellur! Thur's plenty o' time. They knows what you've got thur." During all this dialogue none of the Indians made their appearance, but we could hear them on both sides of the shaft without. We knew they were deliberating on what plan they would take to get at us.
"Marian alive!" cried Holt, recognising his long-lost daughter. "My child Marian yet livin'! God be praised! Thur's one weight off o' my poor soul an' now to eeze it o' another!" As he uttered the last words, he wrenched his horse half around, and dropped to his feet upon the nearer side.
"We doan't kip a baker's shop," she sed. "Thur's cakes, an' biskits, an' sponge cakes." "Hev 'e got sum good bacon, raythur vattish?" I sed. "No, sur; but thur's sum good poork sausingers at sixpence." "Hand awver the pleat, young 'ooman," I sed, "an' I'll trubble you vor the mustard, an' salt, an' that pleat o' bread an' butter, an' I'll set down an' hev a bit of a snack."
He continued, after a pause: "For all o' that, appearances wur agin' me: an' you invented proofs that wud a stood good among lawyers, though thur as false as yur own black heart. Ye've kep' 'm over me for years, to sarve yer rascally designs. But thur's neither law nor lawyers hyur to help you any longer.
Thur ain't a big show o' vittlin' hyur, 'ceptin' we chaw donnicks. But thur's another way, ef they only hev the gumshin to go about it, that'll git us sooner than starvin'. Ha!" ejaculated the speaker, with emphasis. "I thort so. Thur a-gwine to smoke us. Look 'ee yander!" I looked forth. At a distance I saw several Indians coming in the direction of the cave, carrying large bundles of brushwood.
"The band," continued Rube, "needn't come to the Peenyun spring no howsomever. They kin cross the war-trail higher up to to'rst the Heely, an' meet us on t'other side o' the mountain, whur thur's a grist o' game, both cattle an' buffler. A plenty o' both on the ole mission lands, I'll be boun'. We'd hev to go thur anyways.
I hain't forgot a mean trick they sarved me two yeern ago, up thar by Santer Fe." "And so you have joined the volunteers?" "That's sartin. But why ain't you a-gwine to Mexico? That 'ere's a wonder to me, cap, why you ain't. Thur's a mighty grist o' venturin', I heern; beats Injun fightin' all holler, an' yur jest the beaver I'd 'spect to find in that 'ar dam. Why don't you go?"
"Whar, then?" "Whur thur's no great show o' redskins. He may shoot well; he did oncest on a time: plumb centre." "You knew him, did ye?" "O-ee-es. Oncest. Putty squaw: hansum gal. Whur do 'ee want me to go?" I thought that Garey seemed inclined to carry the conversation further. There was an evident interest in his manner when the other mentioned the "squaw."
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