José — page 175: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

168 JOSE. German. By what means hada knowledge of his mother-tongue come into the wilds of a desolate prairie—to a personage who, from appearance and acts, had seen but comparatively little of civiliza- tion? “Won’t you tell me something about the fate of the train, Old Bob, or whatever your name may ber” the German asked, after a pause. “All dead, scalped, or captured,” roughly an- swered the hunter, without changing the direction of his look. “Don’t think there is one that escaped, and if there be, he’ll perish on the prairie.” Baumann suddenly pressed his hands on the ground as if about to rise, but being seemingly too weak, his eyes distended in sudden terror, his lips parted, and he made an effort to speak; but it was some time before he recovered his voice. “All murdered? All, did you say? Impossible!” he at last managed to ejaculate. “Speak, for Heaven’s sake!” “ Kither that or taken captives,” the old man said, nodding, while his lips and eyebrows trembled nervously. “It’s the dead that are best off. We ought always to look at things as they are. All this could have been avoided,” he continued, lowering his head, “if your crazy wagon-boss and the Apaches had been out of the way. The Comanches aren’t the worst, and I know I’d quieted them.” “At least they are not all dead,” Baumann re- plied, with a sigh of relief; “where there is life there is hope! Possibly you can tell me what has become of those two gentlemen that spoke to you in our camp?” he asked with an eager look, rising and approaching the old man. “The wagon-boss is among the slain,” replied the GEomicbooks.co m