The fellow claimed to be very hungry, a good friend of the whites, and
said he was on his way from Mexico, to his home on the Brazos, and only
wanted permission to remain, long enough to rest a little and obtain
something to eat.
"I don't like the cut of any of them varmints," said Jerry, "they're all
natral thieves, and ez likely ez not, thet cuss is a spy. We can't tell
nothin' 'bout 'em, and ther best way is, ter steer clear on 'em, or at
any rate keep 'em at good rifle range."
Telling Hal not to lose sight of the fellow for an instant, and as soon
as he had rested an hour, to start him on, I laid down under one of the
wagons for the purpose of taking a _siesta_, but was awakened by
hearing Hal loudly inquiring, if any body knew what had become of his
pony. No one appeared to know anything about it, but I heard Jerry's
voice suggest, that probably his Comanche friend could tell where it was.
This aroused me in an instant, and I crawled out from under the wagon,
and, calling Hal, asked him where his horse was, when he saw him last.
He replied,--
"I saw him not half an hour ago, within twenty yards of this spot."
"How did he get away? pull his picket-pin?" asked I.
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