Jode had given a jump and uttered a startled exclamation.
“I—I thought I saw that coyote dog among the rocks, up toward the ledge,” he answered, in a smothered voice.
“What if you did?”
“Why, I heard—some one in the camp told me—that a coyote dog always lays for the fellow who tries to hurt him or——”
“Stuff and nonsense!” scoffed the colonel. “You ought to be above such superstitious notions, Jode. Never mind if you did catch a glimpse of the dog. Come on and we’ll go up to the ledge and do our work there.”
“I wish I’d brought my revolver,” said Jode, as he again began climbing at his uncle’s side.
“You’ll not need your revolver.”
Contrary to Darrel’s fears, the two passed well to the side of the chaparral. The colonel’s mind was busy with the work that lay ahead of him, and Jode was still plainly experiencing a few qualms on the score of the coyote dog. As he climbed, Jode’s shifty eyes were fixed on the rocks where he believed he had caught sight of the skulking animal.
What Darrel had overheard pass between his half brother and the colonel gave him a queer feeling of regret for the part he was playing. It seemed almost as though he was a spy and an eavesdropper. The colonel’s affection for Jode was deep and sincere, there could not be the slightest doubt; but Jode’s manner, his very talk, to Darrel’s mind, lacked all that the colonel’s so frankly expressed.
“What business is it of mine?” thought Darrel bitterly. “So long as I am under a cloud I have no right to criticize Jode. I wish he’d clear out and give me a chance at the colonel.”