Part 22 (1/2)
”Well, if you want it so bad, and it's yours, take it.” And in a jiffy I had cut it loose with my knife. ”It's been a hoodoo to me. How did you know I was at any other camp? Are you those three kids?”
”We saw your tracks,” I answered. ”What three kids?”
”The three kids those other fellows had corralled.”
”No, but we're their partners. We're looking for them.”
He'd had another drink of water and his face squinted at us, as we fussed about him. Kit took off one of the shoes and I the other, to get at the blistered feet.
”Never saw you before, did I?”
”Maybe not.”
”Well, I'll tell you some news. One of your partners got away.”
That was good.
”How do you know?” we all three asked.
”I met him, back on the trail, with two new kids.”
”Which one was he? What did he look like?”
”A young lad, dressed like you. Carried a bow and arrow.”
”Brown eyes and big ears?”
”Brown eyes, I reckon. Didn't notice his ears.”
That must have been Jim Bridger.
”Who were the two fellows?”
”More of you Scouts, I reckon. Carried packs on their backs. Dressed in khaki and leggins, like soldiers.”
They weren't any of us Elks, then. But we were tremendously excited.
”When?”
”This noon.”
That sure was news. Hurrah for Jim Bridger!
”Did you see a one-armed boy?”
”Saw him in that camp, where the three of 'em were corralled.”
”What kind of a crowd had they? Was one wearing a big revolver?”
”Yes. 'Bout as big as he was. They looked like some tough town bunch.”