The speaker pointed to the arroyo, on the edge of which both riders had now arrived.
“You don’t suppose they leaped it?” said Calhoun. “Impossible.”
“Leaped it clur as the crack o’ a rifle.
Don’t ye see thur toe-marks, both on this side an the t’other?
An’ Miss Peintdexter fust, too!
By the jumpin’ Geehosofat, what a gurl she air sure enuf!
They must both a jumped afore the stellyun war shot; else they kedn’t a got at it.
Thur’s no other place whar a hoss ked go over.
Geeroozalem! wa’n’t it cunnin’ o’ the mowstanger to throw the stud in his tracks, jest in the very gap?”
“You think that he and my cousin crossed here together?”
“Not adzackly thegither,” explained Zeb, without suspecting the motive of the interrogatory. “As I’ve sayed, Spotty went fust.
You see the critter’s tracks yonner on t’other side?”
“I do.”
“Wal—don’t ye see they air kivered wi’ them o’ the mowstanger’s hoss?”
“True—true.”
“As for the stellyuns, they hain’t got over—ne’er a one o’ the hul cavayurd.
I kin see how it hez been.
The young fellur pulled up on t’other side, an sent a bullet back inter this brute’s karkidge. ’Twar jest like closin’ the gap ahint him; an the pursooers, seein’ it shet, guv up the chase, an scampered off in a different direckshun.
Thur’s the way they hev gone—up the side o’ the gully!”
“They may have crossed at some other place, and continued the pursuit?”
“If they dud, they’d hev ten mile to go, afore they ked git back hyur—five up, an five back agin.
Not a bit o’ that, Mister Calhoun.
To needn’t be uneezy ’bout Miss Lewaze bein’ pursooed by them any further.
Arter the jump, she’s rud off along wi’ the mowstanger—both on ’em as quiet as a kupple o’ lambs.
Thur wa’n’t no danger then; an by this time, they oughter be dog-goned well on torst rejoinin’ the people as stayed by the purvision waggon.”
“Come on!” cried Calhoun, exhibiting as much impatience as when he believed his cousin to be in serious peril. “Come on, Mr Stump!
Let us get back as speedily as possible!”
“Not so fast, if you pleeze,” rejoined Zeb, permitting himself to slide leisurely out of his saddle, and then drawing his knife from his sheath. “I’ll only want ye to wait for a matter o’ ten minutes, or thereabout.”
“Wait!
For what?” peevishly inquired Calhoun.
“Till I kin strip the hide off o’ this hyur sorrel.
It appear to be a skin o’ the fust qualerty; an oughter fetch a five-dollar bill in the settlements.
Five-dollar bills ain’t picked up every day on these hyur purayras.”
“Damn the skin!” angrily ejaculated the impatient Southerner. “Come on, an leave it!”
“Ain’t a goin’ to do anythin’ o’ the sort,” coolly responded the hunter, as he drew the sharp edge of his blade along the belly of the prostrate steed. “You kin go on if ye like, Mister Calhoun; but Zeb Stump don’t start till he packs the hide of this hyur stellyun on the krupper o’ his old maar. Thet he don’t.”
“Come, Zeb; what’s the use of talking about my going back by myself?
You know I can’t find my way?”
“That air like enough.
I didn’t say ye ked.”
“Look here, you obstinate old case!
Time’s precious to me just at this minute.
It ’ll take you a full half-hour to skin the horse.”
“Not twenty minutes.”
“Well, say twenty minutes.
Now, twenty minutes are of more importance to me than a five-dollar bill.
You say that’s the value of the skin?
Leave it behind; and I agree to make good the amount.”
“Wal—that air durned gin’rous, I admit—dog-goned gin’rous.
But I mussent except yur offer.
It ’ud be a mean trick o’ me—mean enuf for a yeller-bellied Mexikin—to take yur money for sech a sarvice as thet: the more so es I ain’t no stranger to ye, an myself a goin’ the same road.