“Shure I will—sowl, yis.”
“Wal, I’ll depend on ye.”
“Trath, yez may;—but how Misther Stump?
How am I to lit yez know, if you’re beyant hearin’ av me voice?
How thin?”
“Wal, I reck’n, I shan’t need to go so fur as thet. Thur ought to be gobblers cloast by—at this time o’ the mornin’.
“An yit there moutent,” continued Zeb, after reflecting a while. “Ye ain’t got sech a thing as a gun in the shanty?
A pistol ’ud do.”
“Nayther wan nor the tother.
The masther tuk both away wid him, when he went last time to the sittlements.
He must have lift them thare.”
“It air awk’ard.
I mout not heer yur shout.”
Zeb, who had by this time passed through the doorway, again stopped to reflect.
“Heigh!” he exclaimed, after a pause of six seconds. “I’ve got it.
I’ve treed the eydee. Ye see my ole maar, tethered out thur on the grass?”
“Shure I do, Misther Stump.
Av coorse I do.”
“Wal, ye see thet ere prickly cacktis plant growin’ cloast to the edge o’ the openin’?”
“Faith, yis.”
“Wal, that’s sensible o’ ye.
Now lissen to what I say.
Ye must keep a look out at the door; an ef anybody kums up whiles I’m gone, run straight custrut for the cacktis, cut off one o’ its branches—the thorniest ye kin see—an stick it unner the maar’s tail.”
“Mother av Moses!
For what div yez want me to do that?”
“Wal, I reck’n I’d better explain,” said Zeb, reflectingly; “otherwise ye’ll be makin’ a mess o’ it.”
“Ye see, Pheelum, ef anybody interlopes durin’ my absince I hed better be hyur.
I ain’t a goin’ fur off.
But howsomediver near, I moutn’t hear yur screech; thurfore the maar’s ’ll do better.
You clap the cacktis under her tail, cloast up to the fundament; and ef she don’t squeal loud enuf to be heern by me, then ye may konklude that this coon air eyther rubbed out, or hev both his lugs plugged wi picket pins.
So, Pheelum; do you adzactly as I’ve tolt ye.”
“I’ll do it, be Japers!”
“Be sure now.
Yur master’s life may depend upon it.”
After delivering this last caution, the hunter shouldered his long rifle, and walked away from the hut.
“He’s a cute owld chap that same,” said Phelim as soon as Zeb was out of hearing. “I wonder what he manes by the master bein’ in danger from any wan comin’ to the cyabin.
He sed, that his life moight depend upon it?
Yis—he sed that.”
“He towlt me to kape a luk out.
I suppose he maned me to begin at wance.
I must go to the inthrance thin.”
So saying, he stepped outside the door; and proceeded to make an ocular inspection of the paths by which the jacale might be approached.
After completing this, he returned to the threshold; and there took stand, in the attitude of one upon the watch.
Chapter Fifty Seven. Sounding the Signal.
Phelim’s vigil was of short duration.
Scarce ten minutes had he been keeping it, when he became warned by the sound of a horse’s hoof, that some one was coming up the creek in the direction of the hut.
His heart commenced hammering against his ribs.
The trees, standing thickly, hindered him from having a view of the approaching horseman; and he could not tell what sort of guest was about to present himself at the jacale.
But the hoofstroke told him there was only one; and this it was that excited his apprehension.
He would have been less alarmed to hear the trampling of a troop.