“Git up!” he said.
Jules Damand rose slowly, with his eyes continually fixed upon the earth.
“Nice kind of man, ain’t ye?” said Ben. “What ye got to say fer yerself?”
“Nothing,” replied Jules.
“Nothing?”
“Not a word. Do with me as you choose. If you had staid away ten minutes longer, the work would have been complete.”
“Ye cold-blooded scoundrel! I’m sorry I ever broke bread with the like of ye. A mean-sperited skunk! I’d sarve ye right ef I sent a bullet through yer skull. Wouldn’t I now?”
“Do it, then.”
“I leave it with Jan. Ef he says kill ye, why, yer no better then a dead man. Ye owe yer life to him, an’ ef he choses to take it, thar’s no law among free trappers to save ye. Anyway, I won’t help ye. Jan!”
“Vell?”