The country did not look like pig country, to Deets. 'I be happy with a few prairie dogs,' he whispered to Pea Eye.
Pea Eye was wishing ever more powerfully that he had not chosen to become a Texas Ranger so early in his life. His understanding of the business was that captains always stayed with their troops, yet their captain had just walked off.
It was confusing behaviour; and it was still windy, too.
He thought he might like rangering a little better if the wind would just die.
It did not take Augustus McCrae more than three minutes to adjust to his promotion to captain. He had been feeling rather gloomy, thanks to low grub and uncertain prospects, and now all of a sudden he was a captain, a thing that made him feel better almost immediately. He decided that his first act as captain would be to press for a quick return to Austin, so he could tell the news to Clara. Now that he was a captain she would have no excuse to refuse him. He meant to point that out to her plainly, as soon as they arrived.
'Now, don't you be bossing me too hard today, Gus,' Long Bill said. 'I've got to have a day or two to adjust to this notion that you're a captain.' 'That's twice you've said that. I order you to shut up about it,' Gus said. 'You oughtn't to be picking on me anyway. Woodrow's a captain too and he'll be a harder boss than me once he gets the hang of the job.' 'Hang of it? Surviving's the hang of it,' Call said. 'I scarcely even know where we are, and I doubt you do either.' 'Well, we're west, I know that,' Augustus said. 'Dern the Captain, why'd he take our scout?' 'Scout up my fat pig, if you don't mind,' Finch Seeger said. 'He's behind a bush, rooting up a snake, I expect.' All the rangers felt a little embarrassed by Finch's fixation on an imaginary pig. Finch Seeger was a ranger mainly because of his strength.
If a log was in the way of a wagon, Finch could dismount and remove it without assistance; but of course that skill was useless on the llano, where there were few obstructions to free travel. With no logs to clear away, Finch's usefulness as a ranger was much diminished. The fact was, Finch was not entirely right in the head. Once he formed a notion that pleased him, he wrapped his mind around it like a chain.
'Now hush about that hog, Finch,' Neely Dickens said. He was a little embarrassed for his friend. Anybody could see they weren't likely to encounter a pig.
'We're in dry country,' Call said. 'We better decide which river to make for.' 'I vote for the good old Brazos,' Long Bill said. 'The Brazos ain't far from my home and my Pearl.' Call walked off a little distance, hoping Augustus would follow. He considered Captain Scull derelict, for simply walking off from his command. The fact that he had split the command between himself and Augustus didn't seem very sensible, either. Though he and Augustus were good friends, they had a way of disagreeing about almost everything. As soon as he said they ought to make for the Brazos, Gus would argue that they were closer to the Pecos. Fear of disagreement had prompted him to walk off. He didn't want to start off his captaincy by quarrelling in front of the boys.
Augustus, though, once he came and joined Call, proved hesitant. Though he was pleased for a few minutes to be a captain, the responsibility of it quickly came to seem overwhelming. What if he gave an order and it proved to be the wrong order? All the men might die. Woodrow's first remark had been correct: surviving was what they had to think of.
They had only one day's food, and little water.
The very emptiness of the plain was daunting. One direction might be no better than another.
'Which way do you think we ought to go?' Woodrow asked--Augustus opened his mouth to answer and then realized he didn't know what to say. The weight of command had suddenly become very heavy. He had no idea which way they ought to go.
'Aren't you going to say something?' Woodrow asked.
'You've been talking ever since I've known you, why'd you suddenly dry up?' 'Because I don't know how to be a captain--at least I'm man enough to admit it,' Augustus said.
'What do you think we ought to do, if you know so much?' 'I don't know so much,' Call said.
'I've taken orders the whole time I've been a ranger. Why would I know any more than you do?' 'Because you're a studier, Woodrow,' Augustus said. 'You've been reading in that book about Napoleon for years. Me, I'm mainly just a whorer.' He took one more look at the landscape, and then turned to his friend.
'All right,' he said. 'I'll try to captain if you'll help. I favor trying to strike the Red River. I expect the Pecos is closer but there's little game on the Pecos.
If we go that way we'd probably have to eat the horses. We've got those extra mules. I say we eat the mules, if we have to, and make for the Red. There's plentiful deer along the Red.' To Gus's relief, Woodrow Call smiled, a rare thing in general, Woodrow being mainly solemn, but especially rare considering the hard circumstances they faced.
'The Red was my thinking too,' Call said.
'Is it?' Augustus said, relieved.
Usually Woodrow took the opposite view, just because it was opposite, as far as he could tell.
Both of them turned for a moment and looked at the camp, fifty yards away. All the rangers were looking at them, waiting to see if they would quarrel.
'The boys depend on us now,' Call said.
'It's up to us to get them home.' 'I just hope we don't run into a big bunch of Comanches,' Augustus said. 'A big bunch of Comanches could probably finish us.' 'One of us will have to scout, and the other stay with the troop,' Call said.
'I agree,' Gus said.
'It's a big thing we're taking on,' Call said. 'We need to keep our heads and do it right.' 'We'll get these boys home,' Augustus said, proud but a little nervous. He looked once more at Woodrow, to be sure they were still agreed on the directions.
'So the Red River it is?' he said.
'Yes, and let's get started,' Call said.
