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58
his own manufacture on Ins head. As
soon as hi? arrival was announced by
Will, who had been on the look-out for
him, we all went out to the gate to
meet him, and escorted him into the
house.
“Well, boys,” said he, us we ga
thered around him, “ we have got to
go to work now in airnest, and fix up
every thing ship-shape for the scout.
In the first place, what sort of ‘shootin’
irons’ have you got to take along with
you ?”
“We have all sorts here,” said Law
rence, “ rifles, double-barrel shot guns,
and pistols.”
“Then,” said Uncle Seth, “I want
every man to take a double-barrel shot
gun except myself; as one rifle along
is enough to kill meat with, and the
double-barrel gun is a heap the best
for Ingen fighting, ’specially when they
pounce on you at night; and if they
tackles you in the day-time, you don’t
have to git down from your horse every
time you shoot, but you kin whale away
from your saddle ; and with twenty-five
or thirty ‘ blue whistlers’ in each barrel
you are very apt to hurt something
when they go off. Rifles are good to
kill your meat with; but you may de
pend, boys, that the double-barrel gun’s
the thing for Ingens. You must have
your ammernition put up in cartridges
though, so you can load quick and
handy, which is a great advantage in a
scrimmage.”
“There are only four good double
barrel guns on the place,” said Law
rence, “ so that someone besides your
self must carry a rifle.”
“ Well,” said 1, “if you are all will
ing, I’ll take my rifle, as I know very
little about a shot gun.”
“ Very well,” said Uncle Seth, “and
how are you off for pistols! ”
“ We’ve each got a good pair,” re
plied Lawrence, “ and can take a pair
of holsters, too, if you think it best.”
“Never mind the holsters,” said the
old man, “they are mity hard on a
horse’s withers; and besides, it ain’t a
good plan to hamper yourselves too
much with shootin’ irons. The man
that works with but one tool knows
how to use that well, and is purty sure
to keep it in working order. And
now,” continued Uncle Seth, “as its
all settled about the shootin’ irons, I’ll
tell you what we’ll need besides, so
that you kin go to work at once to fix
up. We’ll want a tent to keep our ain
mernition and pervisions dry in bad
weather —as fer ourselves, a little duck
ing now and then ain't going to hurt;
then we’ll want about forty pounds of
bacon, one hundred pounds of hard
bread, twenty pounds of coffee—parch
ed, and a little sugar for them as uses
it, ten pounds of salt, some pepper,
one hatchet, one fry pan, one coffee
pot, and one tin cup a-piece. In course,
every man will tote his own butcher
knife, a good staking rope, a wallet for
pervisions, one thick blanket for a bed
BURKE’S WEEKLY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
strapped behind his saddle, plenty of
powder and shot, and at least seventy
five rounds of cartridges; and when
you are rigged out in that style, I’ll
take you to Calaforny if you want to go
there, in spite of all the Ingens on the
peraras.
“ Now, es you’ll jest furnish me with
the stuff that’s needed, I’ll go to work
on the pack-saddle for the mule ; its a
very nice job, you see, fer if the saddle
don’t fit to a TANARUS, the mule’s back will be
ruinated in less than a week.”
Accordingly, the pack-saddle, with
plenty of buckskin, leather, and other
materials, was turned over to Uncle
Seth, while the rest of us went to
work mending and oiling rigging,
cleaning guns and pistols, and pack
ing up whatever we thought would be
wanted on the expedition in strong
cloth haversacks made expressly for
the purpose. Cudjo, and one or two
sable assistants, were kept busy baking
“ hard tack,” parching coffee, and other
similar offices. He was very well
pleased at the idea of going on the trip,
although he was dreadfully afraid of
the Indians.
“I like mightily, Mass Jack,” said
he to me, “to go on dis big hunt wid
you ; but ’spose dem wild Ingines cotch
us, what den?”
“ They’d make short work of me and
the other boys,” said I, “but they
would’nt kill you, Cudjo.”
“What dey do wid me, den?” he
asked.
“ Oh, they’d take you with them to
their country,” said I, and make you
wait on ’em —black their moccasins,
brush their hunting shirts, and cook for
them, whenever they had any prisoners
to roast. Do you know how to make
a nice hash out of a man’s feet and
hands ?”
“ No, dat I don’t 1” said Cudjo, “ and
I an’t gwying to cook ’em for nobody.
But you don’t tell me for trufe, Mass
Jack,” he continued, “dat dey eats
people, do you?”
“Yes,” said I, “they eat the feet
and hands, as I told you, of every one
they kill.”*
“Den, I ain’t goin’ wid ’em,” said
Cudjo, emphatically; “Dey kin jes kill
me, too, and I’ll tell ’em so.”
“ But you musn’t let ’em kill you,
either,” said I; you must fight 'em
when they come as long as you can
shoot.”
“ I’ll do dat, sartain,” said he ; “ only
gib me gun, and I’ll pop away at ’em
as long as I can hold it up I ain’t
gwying wid no folks dat eat people s
foot and hand bress de Lord! I
ain’t.”
Many hands make quick work ; and
in two days after Uncle Seth came
over, we were all ready' to start. The
tent was made, the pack saddle rigged,
provisions cooked and stowed away in
* Jack was playing upon tlio credulity of
Cudjo here. We are afraid he was a wild
boy in those days.— Editor Burlcds Weekly.
the haversacks, and our shooting irons
all put in first-rate order.
On the morning of the 21st of April,
1838, we saddled up our horses, strap
ped our provisions and camp-equipage
upon the mule, and bidding good-bye
to the folks at “Frontier Lodge,” we
started off across the prairies in the
direction of the city of San Antonio.
Uncle Seth had talked so confidently
beford aunt Rivers about making the
trip, as he expressed it, “with ease
and elegance,” that he had succeeded
in a great measure in quieting the old
lady’s fears for the safety of the boys,
and she didn’t “take on,” as Will called
it, half so much as I expected she would
when we lift.
“ Don’t fret about us, Ma,” said Will,
as he told her good-bye ; “ we’ll all
come back safe, you may be certain;
and I promise to bring you a string
of ‘sculps,’ and a beautiful little ‘pa
poose’ for sister Sophia; and”
“You are an incorrigible boy r , Will,”
said the old lady, wiping her eyes with
the corner of her apron.
“Well then,” said Will, “I'll pro
mise you, that when I get back, I’ll
stick to my books for a whole year.
“ Won’t it be a drag, though,” said
he to me in a whisper. “ Just think of
a fellow, cousin Jack, stuck up in the
house for twelve long months, poring
over ‘ rithmatic,’ ‘jography,’ grammar,
and such tiresome books. It makes
me fairly sick to think of it. It ain’t
half as good fun as scampering all day
over the prairies on my pony.”
“I suppose not, Will,” I replied;
“but then, I am sure you don’t want
to grow up an ignoramus, which you
certainly will do if you pass all your
time in scampering over the prairies on
your pony.”
“I know that,” Will answered, and
I’m going to study hard when we get
back; but I’ll have one good ‘blow
out’ before I commence, anyhow.”
As we rode off from Frontier Lodge,
our little party made quite a formid
able and war-like appearance, with
their guns across their shoulders, and
bowie knives and pistols stuck in their
belts. Uncle Seth led the van ; Pitt,
Lawrence, Henry and myself composed
the main body ; Cudjo, driving the pack
mule, the rear guard; while Will, scam
pering here and there, sometimes in
front, sometimes on the flank, acted as
vidette or look-out for the whole force.
My friend Pitt had entirely recovered
his health since leaving Houston, and
seemed fully as capable of enduring the
fatigues and hardships of the trip before
us as any one of the party. Cudjo was
mounted on a stout half-breed horse,
with a most remarkable development of
stomach, and carried slung across his
shoulders a short double-barreled blun
derbus, and a powder horn of huge di
mensions. These, with numerous traps
—hung around him, and tied up to the
pummel of his saddle —gave him very
much the appearance of a “cullud” bri-
gand, returning from a successful raid.
Uncle Seth led the way across the
prairie, for at that time there was no
road running from the settlement on
the Cibolo, where my uncle lived, to
the city of San Antonio.
When we had gone perhaps a mile,
Uncle Seth halted us, and told us to
keep quiet a bit, as he wanted to say a
few words before we went any further.
“Now, boys,” said he, “I want to
have a little onderstandin with you be
fore we git in the Ingen range. I told
your pa I jvould take all the care I
could on you while we was out on this
scout; but I told him too, I couldn’t
be ’sponsible for your sculps onless
you’d all agree to do whatsomever I
might think best onder the circum
stances ; and he said you all had agreed
to it. I ’spose that’s so?”
“Oh, yes, Uncle Seth,” we all said.
“ we have agreed to do just as you tell
us, while we are out on this scout.”
“Then,” said Uncle Seth, “I want
you always to keep close together, and
not to go scatterin’ along, one here and
another yander, like a drove of half
grown turkeys. Always keep your guns
in good order, and well loaded ; and if
you shouldn't see an Ingen for a month,
don’t take up the igee that there ain’t
such a thing as an Ingen at all; for,
like as not, jist when you come to think
that way, you’ll find the woods alive
with ’em. That’s jist the reason so
many scoutin’ parties have had their
hair lifted in these peraras. Fur a few
days, they are mity cautious, and keep
a good look-out; but arter a while,
when they never see nor hear of an
Ingen, they gits careless, and begin to
think ‘there’s no danger at all,’ and
that its useless to keep guard of nights,
and to be etarnally on the watch; and
nine times out’n ten, jist at the very
time they are are sure there ain’t an
Ingen in forty miles of’em, and their
guns may be so is half of ’em empty,
and they are scattered long the road for
half a mile, they hears a warhoop, and
the har flies from their heads before
they kin say ‘Jack Robinson.’
“ Now, I ain’t no notion of being tuck
on surprise in that way, and for that
reason, I want you always to keep close
together, and keep a reg’lar guard out
every night; and though there ain’t
but little danger of Ingens ’twixt here
and San Antone, we’ll begin at once, so
it will come easy to you when we gits
to whar there is danger.”
We again assured L T ncle Seth that we
were willing to do whatever he might
think necessary for our safety; and
thereupon he wheeled his horse and
rode on, while the rest of us followed
in single file, but well closed up, ac
cording to orders.
Abundance is a trouble, want a
misery, honor a burden, advancement
dangerous, but competency a happi
ness.