MY first job, arter I war sartin that the Comanche war done for, war to light the torch an’ examine the cave. First makin’ sure that thar war no more Injuns about, I crawled along up the passage that led to the top o’ the hill, where I found that the log which covered the hole had been moved, an’ I knowed in a minit that that war the place where the Comanche had come in. I didn’t care ’bout showin’ myself much, ’cause I didn’t know how many more o’ the savages¹ there might be about; so I pulled the log over the hole agin’ an’ crawled back into the cave. I stuck my torch in the ground, an’ arter movin’ the Comanche up in one corner out of the way, I pulled over a pile of hemlock-boughs, that had many a time served me an’ ole Bill for a bed, an’ found a kag o’ spruce beer, an’ enough jerked meat to last a month. Me an’ Bill allers took good keer to leave plenty o’ provender² at the cave when we left, so that if we should get hard pressed by the Injuns, or game should get scarce, we would know where to go to find good livin’. As I hadn’t had a good meal since we lost the train, I eat a heap o’ that jerked meat, an’ then lay down to sleep, hopin’ that when I woke I should find ole Bill with me. I warn’t much anxious about him, ’cause I knowed he war on as good a hoss as ever tracked a prairy, an’ war too ole in Injun fightin’ to be ketched easy; an’ I went to sleep, sartin that he would turn up all right afore daylight.  
“Wal, I slept like a top until ’arly the next mornin’, but didn’t see nothin’ of ole Bill. Arter a breakfast on jerked meat an’ spruce beer, I smoked a pipe, an’ crawled up the passage to the top o’ the hill, pushed off the log, an’ settled down to listen. For two days, I kept watch at that hole, listenin’ an’ peepin’, but there war no signs of ole Bill. On the second arternoon, I heered the tramp of a hoss in the creek³, an’ a’most at the same minit a big Comanche poked⁴ his head over the bushes not ten foot from where I war, an’ looked toward the place where the sound come from. How the rascal⁵ got there without seein’ me, I didn’t stop to think; but, risin’ to my feet, I chucked my tomahawk at him, an’ there war one Injun less in them woods. Nigher and nigher come the trampin’ o’ the hoss, an’ I war sartin it war ole Bill; so when he got within yellin’ distance, I give the gobble of a turkey, jest to let him know that there war danger ahead. The ole man heered it, for the trampin’ o’ the hoss stopped, an’, for a minit, the woods war as still as death; but all to onct I heered the crack of a rifle, follered by the death-screech of a Comanche, an’ then the clatter⁶ of hoofs⁷ an’ a loud laugh told me that the ole man war retreatin’. I knowed there warn’t no use o’ watchin’ any more, so I pulled the log over the hole agin, crawled back into the cave, an’ went to sleep. It war night when I woke, an’ takin’ my rifle, I crawled out into the gully an’ lay down in the shade o’ the bushes. I lay there till near midnight without hearin’ any thing, an’ had a’most made up my mind that ole Bill warn’t comin’, when the low hootin’ of an owl⁸ come echoin’ down the gully. I answered it, an’, in a few minits, up come Bill an’ crawled into the cave.
 
“‘Here I am,’ said he, ’an’ I had mighty⁹ hard work to get here, too—the timmer’s chuck full o’ the outlyin’ varlets.’
 
“‘Where’s my hoss?’ I asked.
 
“‘He’s down in the bushes, all right side up with keer, an’ hid away where the rascals¹⁰ will have to hunt a long time to find him. He’s worth his weight in beaver-skins, that hoss is.
 
“Ole Bill eat his supper in silence; but, arter fillin’ his pipe, said:
 
“‘Dick, them ’ar Comanches have got my hoss, an’ I’m goin’ back arter it.’
 
“Now a feller would think that, arter what Bill had gone through, he wouldn’t be in no hurry about goin’ back among the Injuns agin. But sich scrapes warn’t no new thing to him; an’ when he said ‘Go,’ in course I warn’t goin’ to stay behind. So, arter takin’ another smoke, the ole man tuk the knife and tomahawk o’ the Injun I had killed in the cave, an’ led the way out into the gully. As he had said, the timmer was full of Injuns, an’, as we crawled along on our hands an’ knees, we could hear ’em talkin’ to each other all around us. But we got past ’em all right, an’ as soon as we got out o’ the gully, the ole man rose to his feet and said:
 
“‘That hoss knows that there’s somethin’ wrong; he hasn’t moved an inch; he knows a’most as much as a human man, he does;’ an’ pullin’ aside the branches of a thicket¹¹ of scrub pines, I see my hoss standin’ as quiet an’ still as could be, jest as Bill had left him. He seemed mighty glad to see me agin, an’ rubbed his head agin my shoulder, as I fa............