"Not altogether. I could not imagine a brute of a man having such a daughter as you are blest with. There must be something good about you, but just what it is, I have not yet discovered. But, there, I have said enough. I want to know why you brought me here. I am not a child nor a fool, neither am I a criminal, and I do not wish to be treated as if I were one of them."
"You had better be careful how you speak," Weston warned. "You are in my hands, remember, and I can do what I like with you."
"Can you? But who gave you authority over the lives of others? Did you not assume it yourself? And to aid you in your work of terrorizing people, you have gathered around you a band of Indians, who obey your slightest command."
"Talk all you like," and again Weston smiled. "Your boldness and impudence are refreshing after the craven spirits which have appeared before me in the past. But you will change your tone when you face the Ordeal."
"Act like Curly did last night? Is that what you mean?"
"What! did you hear him?"
"How could anyone help hearing him? I thought he would uproot the trees with his yells. What were you doing to him? Sticking pins in him?"
"You seem to treat the Ordeal as a joke," and Weston looked keenly at the young man.
"And why shouldn't I? In fact, I consider you and your tom-foolery as the biggest joke I ever heard."
"But it was no joke to Curly."