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Jake," in a tone of withering scorn, "who's only fit to mate wi' a bitch wolf. An' her father say, he hates her. Hates her like a neche hates a rattler. An' fer why? Gawd only knows; I ain't never found out. Say, that gal is his slave, sure. Ef she raises her voice, she gits it. Not, I guess, as Jake handles me, but wi' the sneakin' way of a devil.
It distinctly came from one of the graves, and, for a moment, he experienced a shudder of superstitious fear. The next moment he suppressed a chuckle as he realized that the sound came from the grave at the side of which Neche had made such a demonstration that morning. He gazed in the direction, his great eyes burning with the lurid fires of pent-up excitement and speculation.
"Injun moccasins," he said. "Guess so, by the seamin'." "'Tain't a buck neche, neither." "No." There was an impressive pause, and the silent land seemed weighted down as with an atmosphere of gloomy presage. Nick broke it, and his voice had in it a harsh ring. The fire of passion was once more alight in his eyes. "It's a squaw's," he added.
Down he threw himself full length upon the floor and grovelled effusively, whining and scraping the boards in a perfect fervour of abject delight. Robb looked hard at the dog. Then he laughed and turned to Alice. "What is the creature's name? I didn't catch it." "Neche," she replied. Robb held out his hand encouragingly and called the dog by name.
His eyes were directed squarely into the eyes of the mean-looking interpreter. Nor did he use any pigeon English to express himself now. "See right here, you neche," he cried, his tones strong, and full of restrained force. "You can hand this on to that darn old bunch of garbage you call a great chief. The play Louis Creal figgers on is played right out.
Hervey fell to the ground with a gurgling cry, and Neche, the dog, until then forgotten by everybody, rolled over by his side with one dying yelp of pain. Then silence reigned throughout the room and all was still. Iredale returned his smoking pistol to his pocket, and went over to Hervey's side. His movements seemed to release the others from the spell under which they had been held.
Look here, neche, you just get right on and don't let me have any more nonsense about the trail." The Indian shook his head. "Ow," he grunted. "This little just little." Then he pointed ahead. "Big, white all white. No, no; white-man no come dis way. Bimeby neche so," and Rainy-Moon made a motion of lying down and sleeping. He meant that they would get lost and die in the snow. Grey became angry.
Iredale moved over to where Prudence was sitting She had ceased work to greet him, but she did not rise from the table. Neche surveyed the intruder, grunted and closed his eyes again. Prudence was half inclined to resent Alice's sudden departure. Alice was in her confidence; she knew her feelings as regarded George Iredale. She considered her friend's action was unkind.
"And you flogged him with your quirt?" "Sure." The man's teeth clipped together. "Oh, yes," he went on, after a moment. "I'm not the sort to let a neche get away with that sort of thing. You see, I reckon I'm master around this layout." "And Keeko?" Again came the man's ominous laugh in reply. "She was quick. I reckoned she was here with you. Making her fancy farewell.
Then he grunted intelligently as he saw the visitors deposit their pile of presents upon the floor, and, in the manner of the neche, seat themselves beside it. Ralph spoke his greeting in Indian fashion. "How," he said. "How!" replied Man-of-the-Snow-Hill, in a thin, reedy voice. And his followers echoed the sentiment in chorus. Then the aged chief held out his hand in further greeting.
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