"You know very well, Louis," I returned without quailing. "Who should know better than you? For the sake of the old days, Louis, help to undo the wrong you allowed? Help me and before Heaven you shall command your own price. Set her free! Afterwards torture me to the death and take your full pleasure!"
"I'll have it, anyway," retorted Louis with a hard, dry, mirthless laugh. "Know they—what for—you come?" He pointed to the Indians, who understood not a word of our talk; and we walked a pace off from the lodges.
"No! I'm not always a fool, Louis," said I, "though you cheated me in the gorge!"
"See those stones?" There was a pile of rock on the edge of the ravine.
"I do. What of them?"
"All of your Indian—left after the dogs—it lie there!" His eye questioned mine; but there was not a vestige of fear in me towards that boaster. This, I set down not vauntingly, but fully realizing what I owe to Heaven.
"Poor fellow," said I. "That was cruel work."
"Your other man—he fool them——"
"All the better," I interrupted.
"They not be cheated once more again! No—no—mine frien'! To come here, alone! Ha—ha! Stupid Anglo-Saxon ox!"