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Updated: June 11, 2025
I could overhear their conversation, though they did not know it. "He's been fightin' a painter?" said one, interrogatively. "A painter or a bar," answered another. "'Twur some desprit varmint anyhow it hez left its mark on him, that it hez." "It's the same fellow that laid out Bully Bill: ain't it?" "The same," replied some one. "English, ain't he?" "Don't know. He's a Britisher, I believe.
I shouted; and we dashed into the thicket in the direction whence the report came. We had ridden about a hundred yards through the chaparral, when we met Lincoln coming up, with his rifle shouldered. "Well?" I asked. "'Twur mounted, Cap'n 'tain't now." "What do you mean, Sergeant?" "That the mustang hed a yeller-belly on his back, and that he hain't got ne'er a one now, as I knows on.
"'Twur turkey-buzzart, then; that's what it wur." "Turkey-buzzard!" echoed everyone. "'Twa'n't any thin' else." "Wagh? that was a stinkin' pill, an' no mistake." "That beats me all hollow." "And when did ye eat the buzzard, old boy?" asked one, suspecting that there might be a story connected with this feat of the earless trapper. "Ay! tell us that, Rube; tell us!" cried several.
I made snares o' it, an' trapped a lot o' the rats; but they grew shy too, cuss 'em! an' I had to quit that speck'lashun. This wur the third day from the time I'd been set down, an' I wur getting nasty weak on it. I 'gin to think that the time wur come for this child to go under. "'Twur a leetle arter sun-up, an' I wur sittin' on the bank, when I seed somethin' queery floatin' a-down the river.
"Ay," muttered Lincoln, finishing the sentence; "if the Yankee's bullet hadn't been needed for the varmint, some o' yer wudn't a' been waggin' yer clappers as ye air." "It was you, then?" I asked, turning to the hunter. "'Twur, Cap'n; but for the cussed catawampus, I 'ud 'a gin Mister Dubrosc his ticket.
'Twur no go! they smelt a rat, an' kep' cl'ar. Then I tuk a fresh idee in my head. I went for some o' the driftwood an' made a pen around the buffler; an' in the wink o' my eye I had six o' the varmints in the traps." "Then you had 'em, eh, old boy?" said one. "You bet; I jest took a lot of stones, clomb up on the pen, an' killed the hull kit o' them.
"Wal," commenced Rube, after a moment's silence, "'twur about six yeern ago, I wur set afoot on the Arkansaw, by the Rapahoes, leastwise two hunder mile below the Big Timmer. The cussed skunks tuk hoss, beaver, an' all. He! he!" continued the speaker with a chuckle; "he! he! they mout 'a did as well an' let ole Rube alone." "I reckon that, too," remarked a hunter.
'Twant two minnits afore this child kim up hearin' the rumpus. I hed good sight o' the bar, an' sent a bullet sixty to the pound into the varmint's brain-pan, when he immediately cawalloped over. But 'twur too late to save the hoss. He wur rubbed out. The bar had half skinned him, an' wur tarrin' at his guts! Wagh!"
"'Twur the oddest sight I ever seed, an' it remembered me o' bit o' Scripter my ole mother hed often read from a book called the Bible, or some sich name about a lion that wur so tame he used to squat down beside a lamb, 'ithout layin' a claw upon the innocent critter. "Wal, stranger, as I'm sayin', the hul party behaved in this very way.
I know'd it wud be no joke gruppin' one o' them by the leg, but I made up my mind to try it; an' I lay down jest as afore, close up to the calf. 'Twur no go. The cunnin' things seed the float stick, an' kep clur o' the karkidge. I wur a-gwine to cacher under some bush that wur by, an' I begun to carry it up, when all of a suddint I tuk a fresh idee in my head.
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