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<SPAN name="chap44"></SPAN> <h3>Chapter Forty Four.</h3> <h4>A Brace of “Old Sojers.”</h4> <p>Yes, it was the wheelbarrow; and the “U.S. Ordnance” branded upon its side, and visible under the light of the blazing pile, told whence it had come. Either Fort Gibson or Fort Smith was minus a barrow, drawn from their stores by no very formal <i>requisition</i>. There were the takers of it—one on each side of the fire—presenting as great a contrast as could well be found in two human beings. Although of the same species, the two individuals were as unlike each other as a tall greyhound to a turnspit. Both were seated, though in different attitudes. The little man was “squatted”—that is, with legs crossed under him, after the fashion of tailors. The long legs of his <i>vis-à-vis</i> would scarcely admit of being thus disposed of; and his weight was resting altogether upon his hips and heels. In this posture, the caps of his knees stood up to the level of his shoulders—so that his body, viewed <i>en profile</i>, presented a pretty accurate imitation of the letter N—that sort termed by engravers the “rustic letter.” The huge black hat capped one extremity; and the long pedal-like feet that rested horizontally on the ground terminated the other, completing the alphabetical resemblance.</p> <p>A face, with a certain mocking monkeyish expression, but without any trait of fierceness or ill-nature—a nose slightly snub—quick scintillating eyes—a chin, tipped with a little tuft of clay-coloured beard—some half-dozen queue-like tangles, of bright-yellowish hair, hanging down behind the hat—the hat itself a black “silk,” badly battered—such were the salient points of the portrait appearing above the knee-caps of the taller man. With the exception of the “tile,” his costume was altogether military—to me well-known. It was the ordinary undress of the mounted rifles: a dark-green round-about of coarse cloth—with a row of small brass buttons from throat to waist—and overalls of the same material. In the particular sample before us, <i>overalls</i> was rather an inappropriate name. The garment so designated scarcely covered the calves of the wearer’s legs—though of these there was not much to cover. The jacket appeared equally scant; and between its bottom border and the waistband of the trousers, there was an interval of at least six inches. In this interval was seen a shirt of true Isabella colour, which also appeared over the breast—the jacket being worn unbuttoned. The frouzy cotton was visible at other places—peeping through various rents both in jacket and trousers. A black leather stock concealed the collar of the shirt—if there was any—and though the stock itself was several inches in depth, there were other several inches of naked neck rising above its rim. Coarse woollen socks, and the cheap <i>contract</i> shoe completed the costume of Sure-shot—for it was he.</p> <p>His contrasting comrade was equally in military garb—even more so, by the additional article of a cloth forage-cap. His was also an undress uniform; but, though of very similar cut to the other, and resembling it in the quality of the material, the colour was different. It was sky-blue, turned whitey with wear—the buttons of the jacket being of lead, and the facings of white worsted tape. It was a better fit than the green uniform; and its wearer had evidently some conceit in the style of it—as was evidenced by the jacket being carefully buttoned from waist to throat, and the forage-cap set jauntily on “three hairs.” The little man was an “infantry.” His horizontal diameter was twice that of his tall companion of the rifles; and in the rounded contour of his body, not an angle was apparent. His garments were quite filled by his body, arms and legs—so that there was not a wrinkle to be seen anywhere. It was a form usually styled “dapper.” His face was also of the rotund shape—the features all tolerably regular, with the exception of the nose—that, like the nasal organ of his comrade, was <i>nez retroussé</i>—the turn-up being infinitely more pronounced. The expression was equally indicative of good-nature and good-fellowship—as the apple-like bloom of his cheeks, and the ochreous tinge upon the tip of the nose, sufficiently testified. Cheeks, lips, and chin were beardless—with the exception of a thick stubble that had lately sprung up; but some well-greased rings of a darkish colour ruffing out under the rim of the forage-cap, showed that the “infantry” was not insensible to the pride of hair. Neither in regard to him had I made a mistaken conjecture. Another old acquaintance and comrade-in-arms—the redoubtable Patrick O’Tigg—a true son of the “Sad.”</p> <p>The two worthies, when first seen, were seated as described—both engaged in a very similar occupation—cooking. It was—by the most simple process—that of the <i>roti</i>. Each held in his hand a long sapling, upon the end of which a piece of red meat was impaled; and this, projected over the fire, was fast blackening in the blaze. More of the same meat—buffalo-beef, it appeared—was seen in the wheelbarrow; its other freight being one or two greasy bags, a brace of knapsacks, a cartouche box and belt, two ordnance spades, with the guns—a “regulation” rifle and musket—lying across the top of the load.</p> <p>It was evident from this collection that the men were deserters; that they had armed and equipped themselves at the expense of the quartermaster. Perhaps the paymaster had been in arrears with them; and they had adopted this ready and effectual method of wiping out the score? My only wonder was at not seeing a brace of <i>branded</i> horses along with them; but in all probability, on the day—or night—of their departure, the stable sentry had been doing his duty.</p> <p>On becoming assured of the identity of the two individuals, my first impulse was to step forward to the fire, and make myself known to them. So eagerly were both engaged in attending to their spits, that they had neither seen nor heard us—although they themselves were now silent, and we were within less than twenty feet of them. The intervening bushes, however would have sheltered us from their sight, even if they had been a little more vigilant—as I should have expected Sure-shot to have been. They were trusting all to the thicket in which they had pitched their camp; and, being hungry and wearied no doubt, were for the moment off their guard. Some fantasy decided me not to disturb them for a moment—a sort of curiosity to hear what they would say, and, if possible, discover their <i>whence</i> and <i>whither</i>. We were perfectly within earshot; and could have heard even a whisper passing from their lips—as we could also note the expression upon their faces. A sign to my companion was sufficient; and, crouching behind the leafy screen, we awaited the continuation of the suspended dialogue.</p> <hr /></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />

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