n Armijo's paws. An' if
he hangs 'round th' settlements, we toss up fer th' job. If that's
right, _vamoose_."
"Eet ees r-right to thee vera letter," whispered the Mexican, rubbing
his hands. "Eef only I can get heem to Santa Fe--ah, my fren'!"
"Yer wuss nor a weasel," grunted the Missourian, slight prickles playing
up and down his spine. "Better git down to them freight piles!"
Schoolcraft watched his scurrying friend until he slipped around a
corner and was lost to sight; then he turned and looked up the street at
the gun shop of Jake and Samuel Hawken, whose weapons were renowned all
over that far-stretching western wilderness. Shrugging his shoulders, he
glanced in disgust at the heavy, patented repeating rifle in his hand
and, letting his personal affairs take precedence over those of the
distant Mexican tyrant, he swung down the street, crossed it, and
entered the famous gun shop. He risked nothing by the move, for the
store was the Mecca of frontiersmen, and a trip to St. Louis was hardly
complete without a visit to the shop.
The Hawkens were established, so much so that they were to be singled
out by one of the famous Colt family with a partnership proposition. The
fame of their rifles had rolled westward to the Rockies and beyond. They
were to be found across the Canadian and Mexican boundaries and wherever
hunters and trappers congregated, who scorned the Northwest fusil as fit
only for trading purposes, laughed in their sleeves at the preposterous
length and general inefficiency of the Hudson Bay muskets, and
contentedly patted the stocks of their Hawkens'. There is a tradition
that the length of the Hudson Bay muskets, which often rose over the
head of a tall man while the butt rested on the ground, was due to the
fact that the ignorant Indians could obtain a white man's gun only by
stacking up beaver skins until the pile was as high as the musket. Even
worse than the flintlock trade guns were the _escopetas_ of the south,
matchlocks of prodigious bore and no accuracy or power, which were used
by many of the Mexicans. That swarthy-skinned race which suffered under
the tyranny of Armijo seemed to believe that anything which used powder
was a weapon. The rank and file of the Mexicans were courageous and
usually fought bravely until deserted by their officers, or until they
were fully convinced that the miscellaneous junk with which they were
armed was worse than useless. It can hardly be expected that me
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