Burn me ef I oughtent to go too. Huntin
aint much o a bizness hyar any longer. Bars gettin pretty scace, an deers most run off altogither from the settlements springin up too thick. Besides, these young planters an the fellers from the towns air allers beout wi thar blasted horns, scarin everything out of creashun. Thars a ruck o them kine clost by hyar beout a hour ago, full tare arter a bar. Burn em! What hev they got to do wi bar-huntin a parcel o brats o boys? Jess as much as this chile kin do to keep his ole karkidge from starvin; and thars the gurl, too, growin up, an nothin provided for her but this ole shanty, an the patch o gurden groun. Id pull up sticks and go wi ye, only for one thing.
What is that, Rook?
Wal, wal; I dont mind tellin you, Dick. The gurls good-lookin, an thars a rich young feller pears a bit sweet on her. I dont much like him myself; but he air rich, ors boun to be when the old un goes under. Hes an only son, an theyve got one o the slickest cotton plantations in all Arkansaw.
Ah, well; if you think he means marrying your girl, you had, perhaps, better stay where you are.
Marryin her! Burn him, Ill take care o thet. Poor as I am myself, an as you know, Dick Tarleton, no better than I mout be, she haint no knowin beout that. My little gurl, Lena, air as innocent as a young doe. Ill take precious care nobody dont come the humbugging game over her. In coorse youre gwine to take your young un along wi ye?
Of course.
Wal, hell be better out o hyar, any how. Thar a wild lot, the young fellars beout these parts; an I dont think over friendly wi him. Tall events, he dont sort wi them . They twit him beout his Injun blood, and that sort o thing.
Damn them! hes got my blood.
True enuf, true enuf; an ef they knew thet, it wudnt be like to git much favour for him. You dud well in makin him grass under the name o the mother. Ef the folks beout hyar only knowed he war the son o Dick Tarleton Dick Tarleton thet
Hush! shut up, Jerry Rook! Enough that you know it. I hope you never said a word of that to the boy. I trusted you.
An ye trusted to a true man. Wi all my back-slidins Ive been, true to you, Dick. The boy knows nothin beout what youre been, nor me neyther. He air as innocent as my own gurl Lena, tho of a diffrent natur altogither. Tho he be three parts white, hes got the Injun in him as much as ef hed been the colour o copper. Les see; it air now nigh on six year gone since ye seed him. Wal, hes wonderful growed up an good-lookin; and thar arnt anythin beout these parts kud tackle on to him fur strenth. He kin back a squirrel wi the pea-rifle, tho thet wont count for much now ef yere gwine to set him gatherin these hyar donicks an dusts. Arter all, thet may be the best for him. Huntin aint no account any more. Id gie it up myself ef I ked get some eezier way o keepin my wants serplied.
The man to whom these remarks were made did not give much attention to the last of them.
A proud fire was in his eye as he listened to the eulogy passed upon the youth, who was his son by Marie Robideau, the half-breed daughter of a famous fur-trader. Perhaps, too, he was thinking of the youths mother, long since dead.
He will soon be here? he inquired, rousing himself from his reverie.
Oughter, was the reply. Only went wi my gurl to the store to git some fixins. It air in Helena, beout three mile by the old trace. Oughter be back by this. I war expectin em afore you kim in.
Whats that? asked Tarleton, as a huge bear-hound sprang from his recumbent position on the hearth, and ran growling to the door.
Them, I reckn. But it moutnt be; thars plenty o other people abeout. Make safe, Dick, an go in thar, into the gurls room, till I rickaneitre.
The guest was about to act upon the hint, when a light footstep outside, followed by the friendly whimpering of the hound, and the soft voice of her on whom the dog was fawning, caused him to keep his place.
In another second, like a bright sunbeam, a young girl Lena Rook stepped softly over the threshold.
Story 1-Chapter VI. A Cry of Distress
It was six years since she had seen him; but she still remembered the man who had stayed some days at her fathers house, and left behind him a boy, who had afterwards proved such a pleasant playmate.
Whars Pierre? asked her father. Didnt he kum back from Helena along wi ye?
The guest simultaneously asked a similar question, for both had noticed a slight shadow on the countenance of the girl.
He
did, answered she, as far as the clearing in the cane-brake, just over the creek.
He stopped thar. What for?
There was a party of hunters boys.
Who mout they be?
There was Alf Brandon, and Bill Buck, and young Master Randall, the judges son, and there was Jeff Grubbs, the son of Mr Grubbs, that keeps the store, and Slaughters son, and another boy I dont remember ever seeing before.
A preecious pack o young scamp-graces, every mothers son o em, ceptin the one you didnt know, an he cant be much different, seein the kumpany he air in. What war they a doin?