rey an me for wild
beests; we ain't thet quite; we've been mighty riled, I reck'n; but f'r
all thet, we ain't a-gwine to take revenge on weemen an childer, as
Injuns do. No--weemen an childer don't count, nor men neyther, unless
thur sogers. We've no spite agin the poor slaves o' Mexiko. _They_
never did me nor Bill harm. We've been on one skurry, along wi' the
Yutaws, down to the Del Nort settlements. Thur's whur I made them two
nicks; but neyther Bill or me laid a finger on the weemen an childer.
It wur bekase the Injuns _did_, thet we left 'em. We're jest kum from
thur. We want fair fight among Christyun whites; thet's why we're hyur.
Now, young fellur!"
I was glad to hear Rube talk in this manner, and I so signified to him.
Indianised as the old trapper was--with all his savageness, all his
reckless indifference to ordinary emotions--I knew there was still a
touch of humanity in his breast. Indeed, on more than one occasion, I
had witnessed singular displays of fine feeling on the part of Rube.
Circumstanced as he was, he is not to be judged by the laws of civilised
life.
"Your intention, then, is to join some corps of rangers, is it not?" I
asked after a pause.
"I shed like it," replied Garey: "I shed like to join your company,
capt'n; but Rube hyur won't consent to it."
"No!" exclaimed the other with emphasis; "I'll jine no kumpny. This
niggur fights on his own hook. Yur see, young fellur, I hev been all my
life a free mountaineeman, an don't understan sogerin, nohow. I mout
make some mistake, or I moutn't like some o' the reg'lashuns; thurfor I
prefers fightin arter my own fashun. Bill an me kin take care o'
ourselves, I reck'n. Kin we, Bill?--eh, boyee?"
"I guess so, old hoss," replied Garey mildly; "but for all that, Rube, I
think it would be better to go at it in a reglar way--particlarly as the
capt'n hyur would make the sogerin part as easy as possible. Wudn't
yur, capt'n?"
"The discipline of my corps is not very severe. We are _Rangers_, and
our duties are different from those of regular soldiers--"
"It ur no use," interrupted Rube; "I must fight as I've allers fit, free
to kum an free to go whur I please. I won't bind myself to nuthin. I
moutn't like it, an mout desart."
"But by binding yourself," suggested I, "you draw pay and rations;
whereas--"
"Durn pay an rashuns!" exclaimed the old trapper, striking the butt of
his rifle upon the prairie. "Durn pay an rashuns!
|