"Oh, One-leg Pete," said the hunter, with as much scorn as they displayed apprehension and respect. "Don't let me see e'en a one of ye touch that door."
He turned to Gladsden and the young Mexican, who was pale again, but courageous.
"You hev seen that the 'Paches even kin spare a young woman of beauty when their greed is keen. But, I tell 'ee, sir, I would rather all was back where we began to play the game, and yon helpless redskin up in arms afore us, than have this poor lady in the power of that villain who waits without, and is likely to wait till doomsday before I let him in. He's cruel, merciless, wuss than a Digger Injin, and words can paint no blacker! But he is a fool! He thinks he and his herd have driven away the Poison Hatchets when their first chief is here! If the Injin will forgive this humiliation, which I doubt, hang me but I'll cut his thongs, set him on his feet agen, and we'll charge this scum of the brimstone pot between us and the Apaches."
"First, let those greasers know that if they breathe a signal to their kindred thieves, you will silence the spokesman forever."
"One moment," said Gladsden. "This captain with the seared hooknose? Tell me more of him. In the same way that this young lady's face called up the figures of the past most sweet in my memory, that peculiar phiz reminded me of the most disagreeable scoundrel I ever came athwart the foot of. What's he like?"
"A hardened man-devil. He lost a leg, so that he always sticks in the saddle."
"A leg gone! How, how?"
"Chawed off by an alligator in some Texan bieyoo (bayou), so they give out."
"I have it! It is an old acquaintance! Only, he lost his leg by a shark bite, I presume."
"All's one. Well, if you ever knew him, then you knew the biggest scamp unhung! And now keep those cowards silent. If we do not answer the bandit, he will think Camote was pushed forward as a decoy by some Apaches within hyar, and will be dumfounded."