"Parasite!" he cried; and his hand flew down to his holster, wavered, and fell soundless on his crossed legs.
It was the first time he had looked on me in anger.
"What's parasite?" asked Donoghue.
"A louse," said Apache Kid.
"Hell!" drawled Donoghue, and glanced at me. "You need lookin' after."
"There are parasites and parasites," said I. "In this case it is more like these deer-lice we came by in the forest."
We had suffered from these, but I have not said anything of them, for the subject is not pleasant.
"Well," drawled Donoghue. "They are fighters, anyway, they are. You kind o' respect them."
Apache Kid smiled.
"Yes," he said, in a low voice, "it's the right word, nevertheless."