So I lay there a while
listening. By and by the star was blotted out, and I cut loose,
and old Meat-in-the-pot missed fire--she never did it before nor
since; I think that cartridge--
Well, I don't know where the Injins came from, but it seemed as
if the hammer had hardly clicked before three or four of them
bad piled on me. I put up the best fight I could, for I wasn't
figuring to be caught alive, and this miss-fire deal had fooled
me all along the line. They surely had a lively time. I
expected every minute to feel a knife in my back, but when I
didn't get it then I knew they wanted to bring me in alive, and
that made me fight harder. First and last, we rolled and plunged
all the way from the rim-rock down to the canon-bed. Then one
of the Injins sung out:
"Maria!"
And I thought of that renegade Mexican, and what I'd heard bout
him, and that made me fight harder yet.
But after we'd fought down to the canon-bed, and had lost most of
our skin, a half-dozen more fell on me, and in less than no time
they had me tied. Then they picked me up and carried me over to
where they'd built a big fire by the corral."
Uncle Jim stopped with an air of finality, and began lazily to
refill his pipe.
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