Part 4 (1/2)
It was a still, white, and shaken Walter who once more rode beside his silent chum.
”You saved my life, Charley, and it's a poor return to merely thank you,” he said earnestly.
”Don't say anything about it,” protested Charley, cheerfully. ”The shoe may be on the other foot next time, and I know you will do the same for me then.”
But Walter had not finished. ”I want to say,” he continued, ”that you are the only one of us qualified to lead this party. Hereafter, what you say goes with me. I know it will with Captain Westfield too.”
”There's Chris,” said Charley with a smile. ”I fear he will have to have his little lesson before he gets in that frame of mind. Walt,” he continued earnestly, ”I do not want the responsibility but I am not going to s.h.i.+rk it now that it is thrust upon me. Frankly, though, I can't help wis.h.i.+ng that this trip was over and we were safe back in town once more.”
”Thinking about our visitors of the other night!” Walter inquired.
Charley nodded. ”If they meant any good to us, why did they not make their presence known to us,” he reasoned. ”Mark my words, we have not seen the last of them,--but hush, here comes the captain and Chris, there is no need to worry them with vague conjectures.”
”See that prairie ahead, Charley?” asked the captain. ”Chris says there's a big bird in the middle of it, but I can't see anything but gra.s.s.”
The party was now only a few hundred yards from the small prairie-like patch. Charley rose in his stirrups and scanned it carefully.
”Chris is right,” he said. ”It's a big sand-hill crane.”
”Good to eat, Ma.s.sa Charley?” demanded the little darky, eagerly.
”I have eaten some that were equal to the finest turkey.”
”Dat settles it,” Chris shouted. ”Golly, I reckon dis n.i.g.g.e.r goin' to show you chillens how to shoot some. My shot, I seed him first.”
”Don't shoot, Chris,” said Charley, gently, ”you can't get it and it won't be fit to eat if you do.”
But Chris' obstinacy and pompous vanity were aroused. ”Tink dis n.i.g.g.e.r can't shoot, eh? You-alls just watch an' Chris will show you chillens somfin'.”
Charley said nothing more but his mouth set in a grim line. ”Time for his lesson,” he murmured to Walter.
Chris waited until they had come within a hundred yards of the crane when he unslung his rifle and dismounted while the others reined in to watch the outcome.
The little darky rested his gun on his saddle and took careful aim.
The crack of his rifle was followed by a hoa.r.s.e squawk and the tall bird tumbled over lifeless.
Chris danced with delight. ”I got 'em, I'se got 'em,” he cried. Like a flash he was on his pony and galloping towards the dead bird.
”Come back, Chris,” shouted Charley, but the little darky galloped on unheeding.
And now the rest of the party beheld a curious thing. Chris' pony had reached the edge of the gra.s.s and had stopped so suddenly as to nearly throw its rider over its head. In vain did the little negro apply whip and spur. Not a step further would the animal budge. They saw Chris at last throw the reins over the pony's head and leaping from his saddle plunge into the gra.s.s. Only the top of his head was visible but they could trace his progress by that and it was very, very slow. At last he reached the crane and slinging it over his shoulder began to retrace his footsteps. His return was infinitely slow, but at last he regained his pony and dragging himself and his burden into the saddle headed back towards the group of curious watchers. As he drew nearer they stared in silent amazement. He was wet from head to foot, his clothing was in tatters, and the blood flowed freely from a hundred cuts on face, hands and arms.
He rode up to Charley with a sickly smile. ”I got 'em, Ma.s.sa Charley,”
he boasted weakly.
Without a word Charley reached over and took the crane from him.
Stripping away the feathers, he exposed the body of the great bird and held it up to view. The captain and Walter gave an exclamation of disgust. The body was merely a framework of bones with the skin hanging loosely from it.