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He watchin' lak a ole fox ter ke'p you en Zany yere. Ef you puts out, he riz de kentry en put de houn's arter you. We des got ter skeer 'im off fust. I'm studyin' how ter git dat dawg out'n de way. Des go on quiet few mo' days en ef you year quar noises up on de hill whar de sogers bur'ed you know hit me. Look skeered lak de oders but doan be fear'd en keep mum."
MacNair nodded, and before he could reply the Indian stepped close to his side and placed a withered hand upon his arm. "Me, I'm lak' y'u fadder," he said; "y'u lak' my own son. Y'u follow de trail of Lapierre. Y'u tak' de white kloochman away from Lapierre, an' den, by gar, when y'u got her y'u ke'p her. Dat kloochman, him damn fine 'oman!"
A man whose pinched, wizened body was a fitting cloister for the warped soul that flashed malignantly from the beady, snakelike eyes. "Non, non!" he cried, and the venomous glance of the beady eyes was not unmingled with fear. "We ke'p straight on pas' de beeg swamp. Me I'm no lak' dees wintaire trail." He pointed meaningly toward the marks of the sled in the snow. The other laughed derisively.
"You'll git back nuthin'," she cried furiously. "You let me git you back here agin an' you'll sure find a sort o' first-class hell runnin' around, an' you won't need no hot flannels nor poultices to ke'p you from freezin' stone cold."
So he gave rein to the venom which he could never long restrain. "Guess I hadn't best ke'p you waitin', sure," he said ironically. Then his eyes suddenly lit. "Winter stores, eh?" he cried derisively. "Winter stores an' why'll the Padre need 'em, the good kind Padre, when the sheriff's comin' along to round him up fer murder?"
"What's the matter?" he demanded sharply. And his demand was not intended for the saloon-keeper alone. "Ke'p your shirt on, Buck," exclaimed Beasley, with studied good-nature. "We couldn't jest help but laff." Then his eyes became sentimentally serious. "Y' see, we bin worried some. We wus guessin' when you came along.
"Six-forty-two," he totalled. "Let's see, supper was a dollar an' four bits, drinks two dollars, an' two dollars for this bottle of prune-juice that's about gone already, an' Hey, Bat, you're four bits shy! Frisk yourself an' I'll play you a showdown for them four bits." The other grinned and held a silver half dollar between his finger and thumb. "Non! A'm ke'p dat four bit! Dat lucky four bit.
He shook the hand of Endicott: "Som'tam' mebbe-so you com' back, we tak' de hont. Me A'm know where de elk an' de bear liv' plenty." Endicott detected a twinkle in his eye as he turned to ascend the bank: "You mak' Tex ke'p de strong lookout for de posse. A'm no lak' I seen you git hang." "Beat it! You old reprobate!" called the Texan as he followed him up the slope.
"Dem no ketch. We com' feefty mile. Dat leetle hoss she damn good hoss. We got de two bes' hoss. We ke'p goin' dey no ketch. 'Spose dey do ketch. Me, A'm tell 'em A'm steal dat hoss an' you not know nuthin' 'bout dat." There was a twinkle in the Texan's eye as he yawned and stretched prodigiously. "An' I'll tell 'em you're the damnedest liar in the state of Texas an' North America throw'd in.
"Sacré! you leetle man, you Du Mont, you 'fraid!" The other shrugged. "I'm 'fraid, Oui, I'm lak' I ke'p out de jail. Tostoff, she say, you com' on de cabin of Brown de Chrees'mas Day. Bien! Tostoff, she sma't mans. Lapierre, too. Tostoff, she 'fraid for de wintaire trail, but she 'fraid for Lapierre mor'."
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