"Might try a steel trap," the German suggested, callously. "But I don't know where you'd set it. Best way to get a wild dog is to shoot him, and he isn't much good dead. Or would this one be worth something—dead?" A swift sidelong glance accompanied the question.
"Not a cent!" snapped McKay.
"And perhaps he'd be worth nothing alive," added Knowlton. "But we have a healthy curiosity to look him over. Guess the Red Bone country would be the likeliest place. How far is it from here?"
"Keep out of it," was the stubborn reply.
The Americans rose.
"We are not going to keep out of it," Knowlton declared, coldly. "We are going straight into it. Thank you for your assistance."
"Not so fast," Schwandorf protested. "If you are determined to go I will help you if I can. Shall we sit on the piazza with a small bottle to aid digestion? So! Thomaz! Bring from my stock the kümmel. Or would you prefer whisky, gentlemen?"
"Ginger-ale highballs are my favorite fruit," admitted Knowlton. "Can ginger ale be bought here?"
"Indeed yes. At one milrei a bottle."
"Cheap enough. Thomaz, three bottles of ginger ale and one of North American whisky—the best. Cigars also. Out on the piazza."