"Prithee say not so!" cried Ready. "You give unto me that feeling of sadness known to those who are homesick. Ah, me! to endure thus to have my beautiful complexion destroyed by this horrid sun! And behold my lily-white hands! Are they not spectacles to make the gods sigh with regret! Permit me to squeeze out a few salt teardrops."
Hodge was saying nothing.
"'Sall ri', boysh," assured the useless guide thickly. "Jesht you wait an' shee. Whazzer mazzer with you? I know m' bushiness. Who shays I dunno m' bushiness?"
He was able to sit perfectly straight in the saddle, although he was disgustingly intoxicated.
"I say you don't know your business, you old fool!" said Hodge, breaking out at last. "It would serve you right if we were to leave you here in the mountains. A great guide you are! You'd die if we left you! You'd never find your way out."
Jim looked astonished. This was the first time Bart had broken forth thus plainly.
"You don't mean it?" he gurgled.
"You bet your life I meant it! I'm in for leaving you to get back to town the best way you can."
"Oh, don't do that!" exclaimed Jim, sobered somewhat by his alarm. "Someshin' might happen t' you, boysh."