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Show 19 of a rusted door, the honk of a goose. At the end of each day, the four mules - tired and thirsty and ready for rest--would shake their bodies and arch their necks...and bray! Clear as trumpets in the cool night air, those brays were. And also a signal for miles around as to where the presence of the military might be. Me an' the mules was let go on the spot. And that's when we finally found some Indians. Or they found us. We woke one morning to find ourselves surrounded. Half-naked, they were, with painted faces. And I knew we were in trouble, right off. There were those among them who wanted to scalp me right there, but others (fortunately) insisted we be taken to their camp. So off we went. To say their chief, comin' out of his teepee with a blanket over his shoulders and a headdress runnin' behind, was not an imposin' figure would be to slight the obvious. The mules, the chief admitted, might be of some value. As for me, well, the chief just waved his hand. It was his way of sayin' I was to be done in. |
