the balance o' your body."

Saying this, the mulatto sets himself to the task proposed.

Upon his knees with knife in hand, he loosens the earth around Clancy's
breast and shoulders, cutting it carefully, then clawing it out.

The hound helps him, dashing in whenever it sees a chance, with its paws
scattering the clods to rear. The animal seems jealous of Jupiter's
interference, half angry at not having all the credit to itself.

Between them the work progresses, and the body of their common master
will soon be disinterred. All the while, Clancy and the mulatto
continue to talk, mutually communicating their experiences since
parting. Those of the former, though fearful, are neither many nor
varied, and require but few words. What Jupiter now sees gives him a
clue to nearly all.

His own narrative covers a greater variety of events, and needs more
time for telling than can now be conveniently spared. Instead of
details, therefore, he but recounts the leading incidents in brief
epitome--to be more particularly dwelt upon afterwards, as opportunity
will allow. He relates, how, after leaving the lone cottonwood, he was
taken on across the plain to a creek called Coyote, where the robbers
have a camping place. This slightly touched upon, he tells of his own
treatment; of his being carried into a tent at first, but little looked
after, because thought secure, from their having him tightly tied.
Through a slit in the skin cover he saw them kindle a fire and commence
cooking. Soon after came the chief, riding Clancy's horse, with
Chisholm and the other three. Seeing the horse, he supposed it all over
with his master.

Then the feast, _al fresco_, succeeded by the transformation scene--the
red robbers becoming white ones--to all of which he was witness. After
that the card-playing by the camp fire, during which the chief came to
his tent, and did what he could to draw him. In this part of his
narration, the mulatto with modest naivete, hints of his own adroitness;
how he threw his inquisitor off the scent, and became at length
disembarrassed of him. He is even more reticent about an incident, soon
after succeeding, but referred to it at an early part of his
explanation.

On the blade of his knife, before beginning to dig, Clancy observing
some blotches of crimson, asks what it is.

"Only a little blood, Masser Charle," is the answer.

"Whose?"

"You'll hear afore I get to the end. Nuf now to say it's th