After he had smoked awhile, he turned his back so that the Mohave might see how his arms were bound, and then said:
“Jus’ cut dem, won’t you? I’ll be much obliged.”
The Indian unquestionably understood the request, but he was not satisfied as to the propriety of granting it. He looked at his companions, exchanged a few words, when they came up and debated the matter.
“I won’t run away—I’ll promise you dat—feller treats me kind, I’ll do de same wid him—gib you my word ob honor.”
They seemed disposed to grant his desire, but before doing so, began a search to assure themselves that he had not any weapons of offense about him. Jim sat motionless, except when he assisted them as much as possible, never once thinking of the gold until he heard the two pieces jingle together in his pocket. Instantly he started up in terror.
“I hain’t got noffin dere—dat am sartin’—no use ob feelin’ dat pocket.”
But a coppery-hued hand was already inserted, and the next instant it drew out the two yellow pieces.
“Dem ain’t mine,” added Jim, and then, unwilling to tell an untruth, he added, “dey ain’t, sartin—’cause I’ve got to divide wid de rest.”
They were passed back and forth, the Indians seeming to care very little about them. When they reached the hands of the hand-shaking Mohave, he turned them over several times, and then replaced them in the pocket of the rightful owner.