“The rascal!” muttered Rafe. “Oh, he is a precious villain if his story is true.”
Shortly after Old Pegs brought the prisoner something to eat, removing his bonds while he did so, in order to give him the use of his hands.
“I want my strength for the work before me,” said Rafe, “or I would not again break bread under your roof.”
“I’ll break a head under my roof if you don’t keep quiet you bruiser,” replied Old Pegs. “Thunder and blood; one would think you was an innercent cuss to hear you tork.”
“And so I am.”
“So’s yer grandmother! I ain’t going ter tork about it now, I tell you fa’r; so shet up.”
Rafe ate in gloomy silence, when he was carefully tied up again by Old Pegs and left alone. Velveteens was entertaining Dave Farrell and Myrtle by an account of the country in the region of the “big pines” of California, and Old Pegs dropped into the circle to listen. Bruin was there, too, and strangely enough seemed to have taken a decided dislike to Velveteens, and showed a disposition to attack him from time to time. It was only the authority of his master which served the unfortunate ex-captive from trouble.
“I don’t know what’s got inter you, Bruin,” said his master. “I’m ashamed of you; don’t you know yer friends?”
“That b’ar ain’t safe,” said Velveteens; “and I reckon you’d better shoot him.”
“Shoot him? I’d raise that man’s ha’r that did it, by gracious. Go on with yer bird’s-egging, stranger; spin another yarn about them big pines.”