The Kid wriggled uncomfortably in the saddle and glanced at the narrow-browed face of H. J. Owens, who was looking this way and that at the enfolding hills and scowling abstractedly. The Kid was only six, but he was fairly good at reading moods and glances, having lived all his life amongst grown-ups.
“It's a pretty far ways to them baby bear cubs,” he remarked. “I bet you're lost, old-timer. It's awful easy to get lost. I bet you don't know where that mother-bear lives.”
“You shut up!” snarled H. J. Owens. The Kid had hit uncomfortably close to the truth.
“You shut up your own self, you darned pilgrim.” the Kid flung back instantly. That was the way he learned to say rude things; they were said to him and he remembered and gave them back in full measure.
“Say, I'll slap you if you call me that again.” H. J. Owens, because he did not relish the task he had undertaken, and because he had lost his bearing here in the confusion of hills and hollows and deep gullies, was in a very bad humor.
“You darn pilgrim, you dassent slap me. If you do the bunch'll fix you, all right. I guess they'd just about kill you. Daddy Chip would just knock the stuffin' outa you.” He considered something very briefly, and then tilted his small chin so that he looked more than ever like the Little Doctor. “I bet you was just lying all the time,” he accused. “I bet there ain't any baby bear cubs.”
H. J. Owens laughed disagreeably, but he did not say whether or not the Kid was right in his conjecture. The Kid pinched his lips together and winked very fast for a minute. Never, never in all the six years of his life had anyone played him so shabby a trick. He knew what the laugh meant; it meant that this man had lied to him and led him away down here in the hills where he had promised his Doctor Dell, cross-his-heart, that he would never go again. He eyed the man resentfully.
“What made you lie about them baby bear cubs?” he demanded. “I didn't want to come such a far ways.”
“You keep quiet. I've heard about enough from you, young man. A little more of that and you'll get something you ain't looking for.”
“I'm a going home!” The Kid pulled Silver half around in the grassy gulch they were following. “And I'm going to tell the bunch what you said. I bet the bunch'll make you hard to ketch, you—you son-agun!”