Frank smiled.
"I have no desire or intention of irking you up, sir," he said. "I am giving you straight goods. There is no Indian with me."
"There was last night."
"Yes."
"Well, I don't opine he's melted into the air or sunk into the ground, an' tharfore he has to be yander behind them rocks."
"I give you my word, sir, that he is not there, and has not been there since last night."
The ruffians had gathered about and were listening to this talk. Picturesque scoundrels they were, armed to the teeth and looking fit for any job of bloodshed or murder. They glared at the cool youth standing so[Pg 25] quietly in their midst; but he seemed perfectly at his ease.
"Sam," said the leader, turning to one of them, "go out yander to them thar rocks an' look round for that redskin."
Sam, a squat, red-headed desperado, seemed to hesitate.
"What ef the Injun is waitin' thar to shoot me up some as I comes amblin' along?" he asked.