“You’ve got a lot of assurance, Harkness,” Ned told him, severely, “to think of asking such a thing. Why, the boot is on the other foot, and we ought to be demanding that you pay us back for all the ammunition it took to clean up your pack for you. I’m half inclined to believe we could prosecute you for keeping such a lot of savage animals. You’d be wise to go mighty slow about trying to make trouble for any of us. We might take a notion to run you in.”
The man’s whole demeanor changed when he discovered that his bluster was not going to alarm the scouts.
“I hopes now,” he went on to say in a whining tone, “thet yuh won’t keep me from taking the pelts off my poor pets. They’s worth sumpin’ tuh me, likewise the scalps o’ the same. I been bankin’ on thet money this long time. Hit’s all I got tuh see me through the winter. Don’t be too hard on me, gents. I’m out o’ the wolf raisin’ line fo’ keeps, arter this bust-up.”
Ned consulted with his chums for a minute or two and then turned again to the intruder.
“Here’s what we propose to have you do, Harkness,” he remarked, with such an air of finality that the man knew he must yield to circumstances, “hand over that gun of yours to me; you’ll get it again in the morning, when we break camp. Then lie down and go to sleep. One of us will be on the watch all the time, so if you try any monkey-doodle business, as Jimmy here would call it, better go slow, or something will happen. Do you understand that, Harkness?”
The man’s ugly face grew as black as a thunder cloud, and then with an effort he tried to grin, though it only added to his unsavory appearance.
“Thar be times w’en a feller has tuh eat crow an’ I reckons as how this be sech a time fo’ me, younker,” he said, slowly. “Oh! I hain’t no ’jections tuh stayin’ hyar alongside the fire; but I hopes as how yuh’ll let me hev my pelts w’en mo’nin’ comes ’long.”
“Yes, we’ll agree to that and, if you behave, you can take your property after we clear out in the morning. Perhaps we’ll go so far as to invite you to breakfast, too, in the bargain, Harkness, to show that we have no bad feelings because your pack made us have a pretty hot session to-night. So that’s settled. Your gun, please.”
The wolf-herder handed it over, though with an ill grace. No doubt, he was what they call a “bad man” down in the Southwest, and this thing of being made a prisoner by a parcel of half-grown boys, as it seemed, galled him greatly.
After that he dropped down near the fire, clasped both arms about his knees and stared moodily into the flames.