Jules obeyed sullenly, although glad of any respite.
“Holt on,” said Jan. “Dere ish my moose vat I kills.”
“We ain’t got time to ’tend to him now. Lead my hoss. I want to watch this beauty.”
They went back to the horses. Jules was put upon his own and his feet bound with a lariat. Jan rode in front. Ben brought up the rear, with his pistol ready, in case the fellow tried to get away. He made no such attempt. In this order they reached the camp. Here Ben tied the horse of the Frenchman to a tree and opened the cache. The beaver skins they had taken were bound up in bundles of twenty each. Ben laid them out in three equal piles. When this was done he untied Jules and made him dismount. Millicent and Bentley looked on in silence.
“Ar’ them divided fa’r?” said Ben.
“Yes,” said Jules.
“Then take either pile ye like and git.”
“I don’t want them,” said Jules. “Give me my horse and gun and let me go.”
“Do just ez ye chose. Thar they ar’. Ef ye don’t want ’em, it’s all right. We kin find a use for ’em.”
“I won’t take the skins.”