“I’m sorry you do not like it, Mr Dean; but if you wish it, I will apologise for the liberties my Indians have taken in saving your life as they came, as well as in taking your chest.”
“Well, I—that is—if I’d—”
“Will you hold your mug this way for some tea, Mr Dean?” said Gunson, with mock politeness.
“Oh!” exclaimed Esau.
“There, help yourself to sugar and milk. Gordon, my lad, help the bacon, and give our much-injured friend the best piece.”
“Look here,” cried Esau fiercely, “you may hit me, or you may kick me, but I can’t stand being made fun of. Say another word like that, and I won’t eat a bit.”
“I have said my say,” cried Gunson, with a look at me. And after gulping down his tin mug of tea, Esau seemed to get better, and the meal was hastily finished in peace.
“Now, Gordon,” said Gunson, “our landlady has been very civil to us, what shall we give her beside the pay for what we have had?”
“If I did what I liked, I should give her a little paper of tea.”
“Well done, Solomon of wisdom,” said Gunson, taking something from his pocket; “here it is, done up all ready. Now then, the sooner we start the better.”