The man laughed scornfully. “You think you’re right much of a much, don’t you?” he sneered. “Take me to Fort Wayne, will you? All right! That’s where I’m bound for. But if you reckon anybody there’s going to do anything about my shootin’ an Injun, you’re all-fired wrong. Do anything? Lord! Yes! They’ll do somethin’. They’ll give me a prize.”
“All right! They’ll do as they please. I’m going to do my part. Now, hand over that knife in your belt.”
The man laughed scornfully. “I’ll see you d—d first,” he gritted.
“Oh! no! You won’t. Pass it over. Quick, now.” The voice was chill and definitive. Then came a pause. Alagwa could imagine the two men facing each other in the brief mental struggle that would break the nerve of one of them forever. At last came the other man’s voice, still surly but with all the backbone gone out of it. “Take it, d—n you,” he growled.
“Very well! Now listen. We’ve got to go through Girty’s Town, where we’ll probably meet the friends of the Shawnee you murdered. If I told them the truth you’d never get through alive. So I’m going to lie for you. I’m going to throw all the blame on your dead friend. Understand?”
The man muttered something that Alagwa could not hear.
But the answer came quick. “That’ll do!” ordered the chill young voice. “You’re a prisoner. You don’t give advice, you obey orders. You’ll do as I say till we get to Fort Wayne and you’ll do it quick. Moreover, I don’t propose to carry you as a passenger. You’ll do your work right along. Now climb on that box and start.”
The man snarled, but climbed upon the box. Alagwa felt the wagon sway to his weight. She felt that he was looking at her through the narrow half-circle in the canvas-closed front, and she closed her eyes. The next instant she heard his voice:
“What you going to do with this d— half-breed?” he demanded.
“Half-breed! That boy’s as white as you—and whiter. You keep away from him or you’ll reckon with me. Understand?”