"Am I sure of my being in my boots? What new 'skeeter's bit you?"
"'Seems to this old man that Garrod bulks up larger in the saddle."
"So he will after the breakfast we are all sp'iling for. Let out your pony—don't you see he is waving his hand that all's clear?"
"Why don't he come back all the way, then?"
"Because he's no such ass as to want double trouble. You'd tire out a Salt Lake Saint, Cormick, you would! Car'fulness is the first thing to put in your bag when you come out on the plains, but you don't want to have car'fulness as pepper and salt and sugar in all your messes, morn, noon and night; and Thanksgiving, and New Year's, and Independence Day! Why, old father, you're getting skeered o' your shadder—which it ar' no beauty on the snow, by thunder! Here, I've had my full measure of this hanging back from breakfast, and if you freeze thar, I foller the thaw and let Sol carry me into camp."
"Go on, then!" replied Cormick. "I tell 'ee thar's some devilment awake afore us this morning! And that's not Sol Garrod drawing us into a trap. He's a bad egg, but he wasn't made to throw at a pardner's head. You'll see, you'll see!"
"Eggs or no eggs, I am going on! Follow at your own pace! But mind! If you gallop off with the young gal, in whose ransom I have my share as the fellow finder, I'll report you to Captain Kidd—and you'll not be safe this side o' the Jordan."
In very open order they resumed the march. The cavalier moved on away as they started, stride for stride.
"Look at that!" cried Cormick, triumphantly; "See him ride away."
"Why should he not ride on in front of us, and keep the way clear? He know's the picket's duty—a dragoon deserter, anyhow, he'd ought to."