“About five miles to the east.”
“Then the pass they went into lies south of the big hills, don’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then I know whar they mean to camp,” said Ben, “and thar’s goin’ to be the only place whar I stand a chaince of gettin’ that boy out’n the hands of the durned Blackfeet. It’s got to be did, if old Ben Miffin kin cipher it down. I don’t know thet I’d do it fer his sake, but fer the gal.”
“You seem to take a great deal of interest in her, don’t you?” said Jules, with a half-sneer which Ben did not at all like.
“To be sure; don’t you?”
Jules Damand laughed in a strange way, which by no means pleased Ben. Indeed, there was something in his conduct lately different from the frank and open manner which had won the sympathy of the old trapper, in St. Louis. Even the stolid German observed the change.
Millicent drew the Frenchman aside as soon as she could do so.
“Was Bentley down-hearted? Did he despair?” she asked.
“Who? Do you call him by his first name? What is he that you should take so much interest in him?”