The Frontier, May 1926 — page 98: what you’re looking at

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

88 pose we can keep on digging until dark. We ought to eat, though.” “Eat and dig, then,” croaked Joe, “but I smell Injuns.” HEY ate some pem- mican, and again fell to digging. But through the long afternoon they found only the light colors, and many pans showed no colors at all. Then suddenly the diggers broke into a “pocket.” Mubs- ley became almost delirious as _ the heavy gold and nuggets trailed after the black sand. “We've struck “We've struck it!” Now each man fairly quivered with excitement. Even Joe forgot to croak, “I smell Injuns.” They worked fev- erishly until nightfall. Though Joe counseled against it, and Mubsley grumbled, Prayerful and the other frontiersmen insisted on broaching a keg of the trader’s alco- hol to celebrate their good fortune. His grumbled objections were quickly overruled by the majority, and, when he had gulped several drinks in quick succession, he forgot that it was his precious alcohol they were wasting. But he was careful to keep in his pos- session the gold they had panned out. He had not offered to divide it, consid- ering himself treasurer of the party. The frontiersmen said nothing about the gold. When they decided to di- vide it, they would divide it. If Mubs- ley clung to it, they would take it away from him by force. The trader, reeling and staggering, with drunken generosity now bade the frontiersmen and the breeds, ‘ Grink’er down and forget your troubles.” Di- luting the alcohol with water, the hardy borderers swigged it as they would tea. In a short time they were roaring drunk. Naturally, on an_ intensely dark night, a spree cannot be thorough- ly enjoyed without a fire. Thus they built a camp-fire and piled on the resin- ous branches. They danced wild dances and sang weird songs. “We got the world by the tail and the down-hill pull!” Mubsley bellowed, with the perspiration rolling down his pouchy cheeks. Prayerful got out the scalps he had taken and performed a war dance. Even Squeaky Bill, soon raving drunk, forgot his smashed finger and boasted of his killings. it!” he exulted., THE FRONTIER Squeaky Bill forget his smashed finger and boasted of his killings “Tm a squaw-killer!” he yelled. “Kill a squaw and she don’t raise In- juns! I’masquaw-killer! J kill many squaws! I kill ’em—I kill ’em!” Then Prayerful and Missouri caught the little Deacon, who had been remon- strating against their “evil ways,” and forced a drink down his throat. He nearly strangled, but they had no mer- cy on him, They laughed uproariously when at last the alcohol mounted to the little fanatic’s brain and he became girlish and simpering. The effect so pleased them that they forced him to drink again and again, until at last he fell sprawling into some bushes, and lay with his thin, expressionless face up to the dim stars. The half-breeds drew apart from the white men and sang chanties of the Red River country, They were a peo- ple apart, neither Indian nor French. Yet, in their drunkenness, they did not become wild beasts as had Prayerful and the other frontiersmen, nor did they boast and bellow like Mubsley. The alcohol seemed to bring their Latin blood to the surface. They di- luted it until it was little stronger than the wine of their fathers. They sang of their loved ones, gaily and blithely, danced a little and passed flowery com- pliments. By midnight every white man, ex- cept Aletes and Joe was sprawled out on the ground, dead drunk. The breeds had sought their blankets, pleasantly befuddled. Joe was apparently only slightly intoxicated. “T kin carry all the licker I kin pour in my hide without gittin’ down. I’m in a class by myself that-o’-way,” he explained. Aletes had taken one drink, but, hav- ing no taste for the stuff and no desire for its effects, had quietly ceclined Mubsley’s oft-repeated invitation of, “drink’er up; she’s free as water !”’ VI We are the Little Rattlesnakes That none may hear and none may see; We give no warning, We give no warning. Creeping, crawling silently, In the darkness silently; We give no warning, We give no warning. Lo, our arrows bite the sleeper! He awakens to fall asleep again; We give no warning, We give no warning. —Song of the Little Rattlesnakes Hm T WAS now the darkest hour, that period of intense stillness ana almost palpable darkness just before the ghostly fingers of dawn begin to feel their way through gloomy canyon and black forest. Aletes had been unable to sleep. Motionless and silent, he stared gloom- ily at the sprawling shapes about the fire, now a great bed of glowing coals —a wicked red eye winking at the night. Joe had what he called a “walking drunk.” He seemed to be continually in motion, like a humming-bird, and his tongue rattled incessantly. He came to Aletes, and walked round him, droning his everlasting monolog. “Loaded to the muzzle—fer ev'ry hump there’s a holler—higher you fly, furder you fall—head a-buzzin’ but kin think all right—thinker fine as a fiddle. See what a cussed fool I be, and can’t help it. Big-headed bunch in the mornin’—no good to dig gold. Look at Mubsley! A man I !ove—like hell! Bah! I’ve a big notion to see if I kin shoot that gold out’n his hand.” He half-raised Never-fail. “No, let him keep his plaything, Take it away from him when I want it. Old Never- fail and me take everything we want, And that gun was made by your hands! Oh, yes, you said something about an uncle, but I know—that’ll do to say. Not the braggin’ kind—no brag about you a-tall, boy. Clean- strain and with sand in your craw, Me and you’s pards to the finish. I claim that you’n [——” “The mules have been acting as CoOnmniclboooks. com