They say an Indian can imitate any sound, Gus remarked. They can fool you into thinking theyre a wolf or a coyote or an owl or a cricket.
I doubt a Comanche would pretend to be a cricket, Call said.
Well, a locust then, Gus said. Locusts buzz. You get a bunch of them buzzing and its hard to hear.
Again they heard the wolf, and again, the coyote.
Its Indians talking, Gus said. Theyre talking in animal.
We dont know, though, Call said. I seen a wolf just yesterday. Theres plenty of coyotes, too. It could just be animals.
No, it aint, its Comanches, Gus said, standing up. Lets go shoot one. I expect if we killed three or four the Major would raise our wages.
Call thought it was bold thinking. They were already a good distance from campthe campfire was only a faint flicker behind them. Clouds had begun to come in, hiding the stars. Suppose they went farther and got caught? All the tortures Bigfoot had described might be visited on them. Besides, their orders were to stand watch, not to go Indian hunting.
I aint going, Call said. That aint what we were supposed to do.
I doubt that fat fool is a real major, anyway, Gus said. He was restless. Sitting half the night by a bush did not appeal to him much. It was undoubtedly a long way to a whorehouse from where they sat, but at least there might be Indians to fight. Better a fight than nothing; with no more mescal to drink, his prospects were meager.
Call, though, had not responded to the call of adventure. He was still squatting by the chaparral bush.
Why, Gus, he is too a major, Call said. You saw how the soldiers saluted him, back in San Antonio.
Even if he aint a major, he gave us a job, he reminded his friend. Were earning three dollars a month. Long Bill says well get all the Indian fighting we want before we get back to the settlements.
Bye, Im going exploring, Gus said. Ive heard theres gold mines out in this part of the country.
Gold mines, Call said. How would you notice a gold mine in the middle of the night, and what would you do with one if you did notice it? You aint even got a spade.
No, but think of all the whores I could buy if I had a gold mine, Gus said. I could even buy a whorehouse. Id have twenty girls and theyd all be pretty. If I didnt feel like letting in no customers, Id do the work myself.
With that, he walked off a few steps.
Aint you coming? he asked, when he heard no footsteps behind him.
No, I was told to stand guard, not to go prospecting, Call said. I aim to stand guard till its my turn to sleep.
If you go off and get captured, the Major wont like it one bit, either, Call reminded him. Neither will you. Remember how that Mexican screamed.
Gus left. Woodrow Call was stubbornwhy waste a night arguing with a stubborn man? Gus walked rapidly through the cold night, toward where the wolf had howled. It irked him that his friend was so disposed to obey orders. The way he looked at it, being a Ranger meant you could range, which was what he intended to do.
He thought
best to cock his gun, though, in case he was taken by surprise. He had heard men scream while dentists were working on them, but in his experience no one undergoing dentistry had screamed half as loud as the captured Mexican.
After strolling nearly twenty minutes through the sandy country, Gus decided to stop and take his bearings. He looked back to see if he could spot the campfire, but the long plain was dark. Thunder had begun to rumble, and in the west, there was a flicker of lightning.
While he was stopped he thought he heard something behind him and whirled in time to spot a badger, not three feet away. The badger was bumbling along, not watching where it was going. Gus didnt shoot it, but he did kick at it. He was irritated at the animal for startling him so. It was the kind of thing that could affect a mans nerves, and it affected his. Because of the badgers intrusion Gus felt a strong urge to get back to his guard post. Walking around at night didnt accomplish much. It was annoying that Woodrow Call had been too dull to accompany him.
On the walk back Gus tried to think of some adventure he could describe that would make his friend envious. The campfire had not yet come in sight. Probably the Rangers had been too lazy to gather sufficient firewood, and had let the fire burn down. Gus began to wonder if he was holding a true course. It was hard to see landmarks on a starless night, and there were precious few landmarks in that part of the country, anyway. Of course the river was in the direction he was walking, but the river twisted and curved; if he just depended on the river he might end up several miles from camp. He might even miss breakfast, or what passed for breakfast.
While he was walking, the wolf howled again. Gus decided it was probably just a wolf after all. The boredom of guard duty had caused him to imagine it was a Comanche. He felt some irritation. The wolf had distracted him with its howling, and now he was beginning to get the feeling that he was lost. He had always believed that he had a perfect sense of direction. Even when he was put off on a mud bar in the middle of the Mississippi River, he didnt get lost. He walked straight on to Dubuque. Of course, it was not hard to find Dubuqueit was there in plain sight, on its bluff. But there were willow thickets and some heavy underbrush between the river and the town. If he had been drunk he might well have gotten lost and ended up pointed toward St. Louis or somewhere. Instead he had strolled straight into Dubuque and had persuaded a bartender to draw him a mug of beerit had been a thirsty trip, on the old boat. That Iowa beer had tasted good.