One night while he sat in the bunk-house smoking a pipe and talking with Jesse Brown, Shad Wells suddenly appeared in the doorway, framed against the darkness. Shad's gaze and Peter's met—then Peter's glance turned to Shad's companion. As this man saw Peter he turned his head and went down the length of the bunk-house. Peter got up at once, followed him and faced him. The man now wore a dark beard, but there was no mistake. It was the fellow of the black mustache—the stranger whom Peter had seen in the Pennsylvania Station in New York, the same man he had caught prowling some weeks ago around his cabin in the darkness.
Peter stared at him for a moment but the man would not meet his gaze.
"Who are you?" asked Peter at last. And then, as he made no reply, "What were you doing prowling around my cabin up by the creek?"
The stranger shook his head from side to side.
"No understan'," he muttered.
At this point, Shad Wells, who had followed with Jesse Brown, came in between them.
"That's right, Nichols," he growled. "No understan'—He's a 'guinea.'" To Wells all men were "guineas" who didn't speak his own language.
"Italian? Are you? French? Spanish? Slovak?"
Each time the man shook his head. And then, with an inspiration, Peter shot at him a quick phrase in Russian. But the man gave no sign of comprehension.
"Who put this man on?" asked Peter, turning to Wells.