Part 38 (2/2)
At first they did not, but when I had thrown in a few lies about the brilliant hues of the water, and the great number of swans, they laid down their cards, left Lame Dave to look after the horses, and followed me back to see. Just before we crossed the last range of hills we heard a thundering sound ahead, which somewhat astonished the boys, but I said nothing till we stood on a low knoll overlooking the lake. There it lay, as peaceful as a dead Indian, of a dull grey colour, and as innocent of water-fowl as a new-born babe.
”There!” said I, triumphantly, pointing to it.
”Well,” said Bill Buckster, leaning on his rifle and surveying it critically, ”what's the matter with the pond? I don't see nothin' in _that_ puddle.”
”Whar's yer swans?” asked Gus Jamison.
”And yer prismatic warter?” added Stumpy Jack.
”Well, I like _this!_” drawled Frenchwoman Pete. ”What 'n thunder d'
ye mean, you derned saddle-coloured fraud?”
I was a little nettled at all this, particularly as the lake seemed to have buried the hatchet for that day; but I thought I would ”cheek it through.”
”Just you wait!” I replied, significantly.
”O yes!” exclaimed Stumpy, derisively; ”'course, boys, you mus'
_wait_. 'Tain't no use a-hurryin' up the cattle; yer mustn't rush the buck. Jest wait till some feller comes along with a melted rainbow, and lays on the war-paint! and another feller fetches the swans' eggs, and sets on 'em, and hatches 'em out!--and me a-holding both bowers an' the ace!” he added, regretfully, thinking of the certainty he had left, to follow a delusive hope.
Then I pointed out to them a wide margin of wet and steaming clay surrounding the water on all sides, asking them if _that_ wasn't worth coming to see.
”_That_!” exclaimed Gus. ”I've seen the same thing a thousand million times! It's the reg'lar thing in Idaho. Clay soaks up the water and sweats it out.”
To verify his theory he started away, down to the sh.o.r.e. I was concerned for Gus, but I did not dare call him back for fear of betraying my secret in some way. Besides, I knew he would not come; and he ought not to have been so sceptical, anyhow.
Just then two or three big bubbles rose to the surface, and silently exploded. Quick as lightning I dropped on my knees and raised my arms.
”Now may Heaven grant my prayer,” I began with awful solemnity, ”and send the great Ranunculus to loose the binding chain of concupiscence, heaving the mult.i.tudinous aquacity upon the heads of this wicked and sententious generation, whelming these diametrical scoffers in a supercilious Constantinople!”
I knew the long words would impress their simple souls with a belief that I was actually praying; and I was right, for every man of them pulled his hat off, and stood staring at me with a mixed look of reverence, incredulity, and astonishment--but not for long. For before I could say amen, yours truly, or anything, that entire body of water shot upward five hundred feet into the air, as smooth as a column of crystal, curled over in broad green cataracts, falling outward with a jar and thunder like the explosion of a thousand subterranean cannon, then surging and swirling back to the centre, one steaming, writhing ma.s.s of snowy foam!
As I rose to my feet to put my hand in my pocket for a chew of tobacco, I looked complacently about upon my comrades. Stumpy Jack stood paralysed, his head thrown back at an alarming angle, precisely as he had tilted it to watch the ascending column, and his neck somehow out of joint, holding it there. All the others were down upon their marrow-bones, white with terror, praying with extraordinary fervency, each trying his best to master the ridiculous jargon they had heard me use, but employing it with an even greater disregard of sense and fitness than I did. Away over on the next range of hills, toward camp, was something that looked like a giant spider, scrambling up the steep side of the sand-hill, and sliding down a trifle faster than it got up. It was Lame Dave, who had abandoned his equine trust, to come up at the eleventh hour and see the swans. He had seen enough, and was now trying, in his weak way, to get back to camp.
In a few minutes I had got Stumpy's head back into the position a.s.signed it by Nature, had crowded his eyes in, and was going about with a rea.s.suring smile, helping the pious upon their feet. Not a word was spoken; I took the lead, and we strode solemnly to camp, picking up Lame Dave at the foot of his acclivity, played a little game for Gus Jamison's horse and ”calamities,” then mounted our steeds, departing thence. Three or four days afterward I ventured cautiously upon a covert allusion to peculiar lakes, but the simultaneous clicking of ten revolvers convinced me that I need not trouble myself to pursue the subject.
STRINGING A BEAR.
”I was looking for my horse one morning, up in the San Joaquin Valley,” said old Sandy Fowler, absently stirring the camp fire, ”when I saw a big bull grizzly lying in the suns.h.i.+ne, picking his teeth with his claws, and smiling, as if he said, 'You need not mind the horse, old fellow; he's been found.' I at once gave a loud whoop, which I thought would be heard by the boys in the camp, and prepared to string the brute.”
”Oh, I know how it goes,” interrupted Smarty Mellor, as we called him; ”seen it done heaps o' times! Six or eight o' ye rides up to the b'ar, and s'rounds him, every son-of-a-gun with a _riata_ a mile long, and worries him till he gits his mad up, and while he's a-chasin' one feller the others is a-goin' ater him, and a-floorin' of him by loopin' his feet as they comes up behind, and when he turns onto them fellers the other chappy turns onto him, and puts another loop onto his feet as they comes up behind, and then--”
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