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Thure shuddered at the thought of the hanging; and, with fingers that trembled a little, cautiously opened the paper and read these dreadful words: You have gone and done it now you infernal idjit by testifin' agin us it is now yur necks or ourn al hel kant save you now you kan keep the map and we wil git it off yur ded bodies and you kan have the satisfackshun of noin that you might have ben alive and wel when yur danglin ded at the end of a rope.
What's sauce for the goose, air likewise sauce for the gander. Yur pencil, ef ye please? I ain't much o' a scholart; but I reck'n I kin write my name. Hyur goes!" Spreading out the paper on the top of a stump, he slowly scribbled his name below mine; and then, holding the leaf before my eyes, pointed to the signature but without saying a word.
His unexpected behaviour had subdued my ire; and, all consideration of consequences apart, I now felt a complete disinclination for the combat! Was it too late to stay our idle strife? Such was my reflection the moment after; and, with an effort conquering my pride, I gave words to the thought. "Yur too late, mister! 'twon't do now," was the reply to my pacific speech. "And why not?"
'Yis, mum,'said the old man, placidly, 'ya might 'a' thowt it. I's reet sorry, but ya caan't help these things sumtimes an' it's naw gud hollerin' ower 'em like a mad bull. Aa tuke yur bit paper to Randall's and aa laft it wi' 'em to mek up, an' than, aa weel, aa went to a frind, an' ee may hev giv' me a glass of yale, aa doon't say ee dud but ee may, I ween't sweer.
And it was at this moment that Neale either remembered the strange, low moan or heard it again. He reined in his horse. "I'm going back," he called. "What fer?" Slingerland rejoined. Larry King wheeled his mount and trotted back to Neale. "Red, I'm not satisfied," said Neale, and told his friend what he thought he had heard. "Boy, you're oot of yur haid!" expostulated Red. "Maybe I am.
Better, indeed: since I stood in need of some stimulus to arouse me to an attitude, even of defence. This thought swaying me, I called out: "Holt! you are a brave man. I know it. Why should this go on? It is not too late " "You air a coward!" cried he, interrupting me, "an' I know it a sneakin' coward, in spite o' yur soger clothes!
Nowe, lass, he never knowed me until one neet he seemed to come to hissel, and then he looked at me and said, "Mother!" But it wur all he said he never spok' at after. 'Yi; but yo' see'd yur lad dee and mine deed afore I could get to him. 'That is so, lass! but as aw stood an' see'd mine deein', I would ha' gien onything if I could ha' shut mi een, or not bin wi' him.
"Neither one nor other," I replied, pocketing the affront. "An' who air ye, anyhow wi' yur dam glitterin' buttons, an' yur waist drawd in, like a skewered skunk?" This was intolerable; but remembering the advice of my Nashville friend with some additional counsel I had received over-night I strove hard to keep down my rising choler. "My name," said I
"I reck'n, strenger," said he, in the same imperturbable tone, "that'll keep the wind from blowin' it away, till we've settled who it's to belong to. Now, to yur place! I'm agwine to throw the deer-meat!" I had already dismounted, and stood near him rifle in hand.
"Cap," said he, after a short delay, "'ee needn't show yur crowd till we've first took the luk-outs by the eend o' the kenyun." "How can we take them?" inquired Seguin. "Strip them twenty niggurs," replied Rube, pointing to our captives, "an' let twenty o' us put on their duds. Then we kin take the young fellur him hyur as tuk me for the grizzly! He! he! he! Ole Rube tuk for a grizzly!
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