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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Wal, then; that ur's a desprit weepun, for them as knows how to use it; an' he diz; that Injun diz. T'other had a hatchet, too, but he didn't keep it long. 'Twur clinked out o' his hands in a minnit, an' then the Coco got a down blow at him. Wagh! it wur a down blow, an' it wa'n't nuthin' else. It split the niggur's head clur down to the thrapple.
"My hearin' ain't as good as 'twur afore I kim into this cussed country; but I thought I heerd some o' 'ees say, jest now, we cudn't cross the 'Pash trail 'ithout bein' followed in two days. That's a dod-rotted lie. It are." "How are ye goin' to prove it, hoss?" "Chut, man! yur tongue wags like a beaver's tail in flood-time." "Can you suggest any way in which it can be done, Rube?
"There ain't water enough 'tween here an' Hatt'rus to wash the furrer-mold off'n his boots. He's jest everlastin' farmer. Why, Harve, I've seen thet man hitch up a bucket, long towards sundown, an' set twiddlin' the spigot to the scuttle-butt same's ef 'twas a cow's bag. He's thet much farmer. Well, Penn an' he they ran the farm up Exeter way 'twur.
"'Twur a beautiful shot, an' I kudn't help tryin' it, ef 't hed been my last; so I poked my rifle through the hole in the blanket, an' sent a bullet atween the varmint's ribs. "That wur, perhaps, the foolichest an' wust shot this child ever made. Hed I not fired it, the bar mout a gone off, feard o' the blanket; but I did fire, an' my narves bein' excited, I made a bad shot.
I could see all the while that the varmint's eyes wur fixed upon mine, an' I never tuk mine from hisn; I know'd 'twur the only way to keep him still. "I wur jest prospectin' what ud be the eendin' o' the business, when I seed we wur a-gettin' closter to the timmer: 'twan't more 'n two miles off, but 'twur all under water 'ceptin' the tops o' the trees.
I tackled on to one o' them ahint, an' gin him a settler in the hump ribs; but the way he finished the other wur a caution to Crockett. 'Twur the puttiest lick I ever seed in these hyur mountains, an' I've seed a good few, I reckin." "How was it?" "'Ee know, the Injun that are, the Coco fit wi' a hatchet?" "Yes."
"'Twan't very clur at the time, for it had been a-growin' cloudier ever since I left the shanty, but 'twur clur enough to show me that the thing wur a varmint: what sort, I couldn't tell. It mout be a bar, an' it mout not; but I had my suspects it wur eyther a bar or a painter. "I wan't left long in doubt about the thing's gender.
They wouldn't a been, blast 'em, if I had er had my traps, but there wa'n't a critter, from the minners to the buffler, that didn't take on as if they knowed how this nigger war fixed. I could get nothing for two days but lizard, an' scarce at that. I chewed up the old leggings, until I was as naked as Pike's Peak." "Golly! was it winter?" "No, 'twur calf time, and warm enuff for that matter.
And Rube, as he said this, made a fresh attack upon the wolf-mutton. "I chawed up the ole leggins, till I wur as naked as Chimley Rock." "Gollies! was it winter?" "No. 'Twur calf-time, an' warm enuf for that matter. I didn't mind the want o' the buckskin that a way, but I kud 'a eat more o' it. "The third day I struck a town o' sand-rats. This niggur's har wur longer then than it ur now.
When I kim closer, I seed it wur the karkidge o' a buffler calf at that an' a couple o' buzzarts floppin' about on the thing, pickin' its peepers out. 'Twur far out, an' the water deep; but I'd made up my mind to fetch it ashore. I wa'n't long in strippin', I reckin." Here the hunters interrupted Rube's story with a laugh. "I tuk the water, an' swam out.
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