Cousin Hicks was at home and greeted the boys with apparent heartiness. To Barker he was friendly, but did not invite him to stay over night.
“You need not go to any trouble,” the trapper told him. “We have had our supper on the boat, and I will just spread my blanket on the floor for the night. You know a seasoned trapper can sleep anywhere.”
“Yes, do make yourself at home,” Hicks said now. “I am glad you took the boys with you to St. Paul. It is a bit lonesome for them here, and I have to be away a good deal.”
Next morning Hicks walked along the prairie road with Barker, and the trapper knew that Hicks had something to say to him.
When they were no longer within sight of the shack, Hicks began:
“It would suit me just as well, Barker, if you wouldn’t take those lads away from my place. I’m their guardian and I reckon I can look after them.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that, Mr. Hicks. I always thought the boys ought to have a guardian. But I want to tell you that, in my opinion, you have done blessed little guarding.”
“Just the same,” Hicks replied, his Southern accent becoming more pronounced, “it would suit me just as well if you and yours wouldn’t meddle in my business.”
“Now look here, Hicks,” the trapper turned on him with his gray eyes flashing, “this isn’t a matter of business at all. You claim to be the friend or guardian of these two boys, and you not only neglect them, but you expose them to great danger.”
“Where’s the danger, and what...?” Hicks started, his anger plainly rising.