There was a pause.
"You ain't asked me what it is, but I'm goin' to tell you. It's Wah-na-gi."
"Bill!" And the light died out of the blue eyes which glittered ominously, and Bill was sensitive to the warning in the cold even tone of the boy's pleasant voice.
"That's all right," he hastened to say as he put up his guard. "You needn't git the blind staggers. Somebody's got to round you up. I was your dad's foreman before you was born. Your dad sure was a gentleman. He sure was, and as to his bein' an Englishman, why, he lived that down."
"You and father were pals, I know that, Bill," said the youngster, softening.
"You and me was pards too, son. I made you your first quirt; taught you how to ride. I helped to bury your little Injin mother. I ain't your kin exactly——"
"You're closer than kin, Bill. I didn't mean to be ugly. Don't mind me. Say what you like."
"Well," said the big fellow with an awkward air of apology, "your dad made me promise to ride herd on you. You know that, don't you?"
"That's right."
"Sure." He blurted, as he felt on firmer ground. "He wrote me you had been a-hittin' it up in London."