an' yowltin', as when I peppered them donicks down on 'em.
He! he! he! Ho! ho! hoo!"

And the smoky old sinner chuckled with delight at the remembrance of his
adventure.

"You reached Bent's then safe enough, I reckin?"

"'Ee--es. I skinned the critters wi' a sharp stone, an' made me a sort
o' shirt an' leggins. This niggur had no mind, comin' in naked, to gi'
them thur joke at the Fort. I packed enough of the wolf-meat to last me
up, an' I got there in less'n a week. Bill wur thur himself, an' 'ee
all know Bill Bent. He know'd me. I wa'n't in the Fort a half an hour
till I were spick-span in new buckskins, wi' a new rifle; an' that rifle
wur Tar-guts, now afore ye."

"Ha! you got Tear-guts thar then?"

"I got Tar-guts thur then, an' a gun she ur. He! he! he! 'Twa'n't long
arter I got her till I tried her. He! he! he! Ho! ho! hoo!"

And the old trapper went off into another fit of chuckling.

"What are ye laughin' at now, Rube?" asked one of his comrades.

"He! he! he! What am I larfin' at? He! he! he! Ho! ho! That ur the
crisp o' the joke. He! he! he! What am I larfin' at?"

"Yes; tell us, man!"

"It are this then I'm larfin' at," replied Rube, sobering down a little,
"I wa'n't at Bent's three days when who do 'ee think shed kum to the
Fort?"

"Who? Maybe the Rapahoes!"

"Them same Injuns; an' the very niggurs as set me afoot. They kum to
the Fort to trade wi' Bill, an' thur I sees both my old mar an' rifle!"

"You got them back then?"

"That wur likely. Thur wur a sight o' mountainy men thur, at the time,
that wa'n't the fellurs to see this child put down on the parairar for
nuthin'. Yander's the critter!" and Rube pointed to the old mare. "The
rifle I gin to Bill, an' kep Tar-guts instead, seeing she wur a better
gun."

"So you got square with the Rapahoes?"

"That, young fellur, justs rests on what 'ee 'ud call squar. Do 'ee see
these hyur nicks: them standin' sep'rate?"

And the trapper pointed to a row of small notches cut in the stock of
his rifle.

"Ay, ay!" cried several men in reply. "Thur's five o' 'em, ain't thur?"

"One, two, three; yes, five."

"Them's Rapahoes!"

Rube's story was ended.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

BLINDING THE PURSUER.

By this time the men had finished eating, and now began to gather around
Seguin, for the purpose of deliberating on what course we should pursue.
One had already been sent up to the rocks to act as a vidette, and warn
us