"Is Diable among them?"
"No."
"Is Diable here?"
"No." His face clouded as I questioned.
"Do you know where he is?"
"No."
"Will he be back?"
"Dammie! How do I know? He will if he wants to! I don't tell tales on a man who saved my life."
His answer set me to wondering if Diable had seen me hold back the trader's murderous hand, when Louis lay drunk, and if the Frenchman's knowledge of that incident explained his strange generosity now.
"I'll stay here in spite of all the Sioux warriors on earth, till I find out about that knave of an Indian and his captives," I vowed.