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From: | Rosemary Vasquez |
Subject: | [Bug-sweater] inaugural |
Date: | Thu, 7 Sep 2006 19:18:59 +0200 |
Shore didnt know the river anpicked out a bad
place. Im asking, because if you saw herfor even a little shed have given you a
message for me. Different men addressed the council, and none were more
impressivethan Pilchuck. He was athick, imperturbable sort of fellow, and possibly,
Tom thought, hemight be a Swede.
This mawnin there was a stampede onour side, an I
was sent across to scout around.
Theirutilitarian value was not understood, and now
it was too late. It went against his grain to be regarded with hard, cold,suspicious
eyes. It was the middle of the afternoon, too late for Tom to reach campthat
day.
Theplainsman loomed now in Toms sight big and
strong, implacable andinfallible.
Rumor of a fight reached Hudnalls camp that night,
but not untilnext day were the facts known.
Weve got to KILL the Comanches, anlick the Kiowas,
Cheyennes, an Arapahoes.
Jett had a heavy load, as the wheel tracks cut
deep.
He had been shot many times, as was attested to
bybullet holes in his torn and limp limbs. Then the earth wasfilled in and stamped
down hard.
Many horses and strong hands made short work of
thislabor.
Storm, mebbe, but not thunder-an-lightnin storm,
repliedPilchuck. Sallyan me would have married, when this huntins over.
Heres where I was, when the Indians came in sight
over thatridge, said Burn, huskily. He neednt, far as Im concerned, spoke up Tom,
ringingly.
That indeed seemed the prevailing sentiment. The
prairie was a beautiful grassy level, growingbrown from the hot sun. Wal, Star,
thats as we reckoned, declared the scout.
Bewildered, uncertain, he could not fix hismind on
any effort.
Now the Indians are scattered allover, same as the
buffalo-hunters.
Reckon, though, thats just where well
be.
If you feel that way, come on, he replied,
coolly.
Wal, Star, thats as we reckoned, declared the
scout.
This was not lost on Tom nor the gloomy cast of
Pilchucks leanface.
Many horses and strong hands made short work of
thislabor. His scalp had beenliterally torn off, his face gashed, and his abdomen
ripped open.
Sallyan me would have married, when this huntins
over.
The night insects had begun theirincessant song,
low, monotonous, plaintive.
Starwell thinksdifferent from me on some
points.
Many horses and strong hands made short work of
thislabor.
Men, I want a look at that camp, declared Pilchuck,
rising. Somethin, most likely Indians, hasscared the buffalo across the
river.
I aint placin toomuch confidence in you, Dave.
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