"I can protect myself," answered the stranger shortly, and Red broke into a laugh.
"Why didn't you do it, then?" he taunted, "when we nabbed you by the spring? I reckon you're pretty green in these parts."
"Yes, I'm green," admitted Hall, "but I'm beginning to learn—and I'm willing to take a chance on the Bassetts."
"Oh, you think they ain't so bad, eh?" broke in Isham intolerantly. "Well, let me tell you a few things about the Bassetts. They're a cross between a horsethief and a Digger Injun squaw, and they's more than one man that's dropped suddenly out of sight while he was riding across their range. They're the most treacherous dastards that ever was born and them that knows 'em best trusts 'em least. They're jest naturally bad with a yaller stripe down their belly as broad as the flat of your hand. They'll do everything but fight, and you can't crowd 'em to it—not if you call 'em every name you can lay your tongue to. And they're the orneriest-looking rascals that a white man ever seen—like an Injun, but black as niggers. You ain't going to throw in with an outfit like that—and call yourself a Southerner?"
"Whoever said I was going to throw in with them?" demanded Hall with outraged dignity. "Haven't I told you distinctly that I am just going through the country and that I don't give that for your quarrels?"
"Yes, you've told me," retorted Isham, "but perhaps I don't believe you. I wasn't born yesterday, and if you don't want to join them why do you object to going in with Meshackatee?"
"I don't object!" replied the prisoner tartly, "and if that's a condition I agree to it. But since my word of honor means nothing to you gentlemen I must ask permission to withdraw it."
"W'y, sure!" mocked Isham, bowing low and with a smirk. "By grab, boys; we've sure caught a preacher."