A little while before dusk Hugh came back and said, “Well, boys, I’ve tied up all the horses and I guess maybe to-morrow, if you like, we may as well start for the Agency. The fact is we couldn’t stay out here much longer anyhow, because if it came on to rain now, we’d all get wet, our tent has so many holes in it.”
Joe said nothing, but Jack shouted with laughter at Hugh’s mild jest, and said, “Tell me, Hugh, were you at all scared when you walked up to that man with his pistol in his hand?”
“Well, really son, I don’t know. I don’t think I thought much whether I was scared or not. I was a little bit cross with him for acting like a fool, and I made up my mind we couldn’t have them around here any longer, and that I would send them off.”
“But, good Lord, Hugh,” replied Jack, “he might have killed you.”
“Yes,” said Hugh, “perhaps he might if he had been sober and could have hit me, but I didn’t think that he’d try to shoot, and if he had I don’t believe he would have hit me.”
“Hugh,” said Jack, “do you know what I thought of when you were holding that man in your arms and he was yelling like a stuck pig?”
“No,” said Hugh, “I don’t.”
“I couldn’t help thinking about a story that Mr. Fannin told us when we were out in British Columbia, about how the bears used to come in and take a pig out of the pen and hold it in their arms and walk off on their hind legs, the pig squealing all the time.”
Hugh’s eye twinkled as he said, “I believe I do remember that story. So when you saw me holding Tony that way you took me for a bear and him for a pig, did you?”
“Well,” said Jack, “not that exactly, but it made me think of that. It seemed awfully funny for a minute, but I was too scared and too excited to laugh, although I wanted to.”