"I'm your uncle—Bill Brent—Black Bill fur short; an' as fur the business I have in takin' you prisoner, it's the business every man's got to right the wrongs that's been done him. That's what's the matter."
Archie very deliberately seated himself upon the ground, rested his chin on his hands, and looked up at the outlaw. "I know you now," said he, "and I have no desire for a more intimate acquaintance. Do you remember that, one night, in the latter part of June, a fellow about my age walked into your camp, and you and your cowardly companions robbed him of his horse?"
"I'll allow I haint forgot it," replied the outlaw.
"Well, that fellow was my cousin. He and I were on our way to California, with Dick Lewis and Bob Kelly, and an uncle, who looks about as much like you as you look like a white man. You've got the wrong buck by the horn, if you take me for Adam Brent. He is at the fort, and among friends, where he is safe. I left him there not more than an hour ago."
"Now jest look a-here, Adam," said Black Bill; "that story won't go down—not by no means. If I hadn't never seed you afore, it might do you some good to talk to me in that fashion; but I know you as well as I know any of my mates here. I've got you now, an' I'm goin' to hold fast to you."
"But what do you intend to do with me?" asked Archie.
"I'm goin' to do jest what I told your father I should do when I got my hands on you: I'm goin' to make you jest sich a man as I am."
"You'll have a good time of it, and you can't do it. It is my intention to be of some use in the world, and I'd like to see you or any body else drag me down as low as you are. But I tell you that I am not Adam Brent, and neither am I any relative of his."
"Hold your hosses. I know jest what I am about, an' all your talkin' an' fussin' won't do you no 'arthly good whatsomever; so you might jest as well shut up. I'm goin' to make a renegade of you. Arter you have been with me a few years, you'll larn to hate white folks as bad as I do, an' will fight 'em like any Injun, I told your father that I would make him sorry for all he's done agin me, an' I'm goin' to keep my word. Jack, jest tie his hands behind his back, an' then we'll trot along. I've spent the most of my time, durin' the last ten years, hangin' around this yere valley, watchin' fur a chance to get hold of you," continued the outlaw, while his companion was confining Archie's arms with a thong of buckskin, "but the ole man tuk mighty good care to keep you out of my sight. The fust time I sot eyes on you, since you was six years old, was to-day, at the fort, when them fellers run that race; but I knowed you in a minute. I've got you now, an' the next time your father sees you, you will be like me—half Injun an' half trapper, an' an enemy of your own race."
Archie had learned something during this interview with the outlaw, and now thought he could understand why Mr. Brent had been so careful never to allow Adam far out of his sight. In years gone by—perhaps when they were young men together—he had done something to incur the displeasure of this unnatural brother, who had resolved to be revenged upon him by dragging his son down as low as he was himself. But the outlaw's plans were not working as smoothly as he imagined. He had made a mistake in the boy; and Adam, of whom he had been trying to make a prisoner for ten years, was still safe under the protection of his father.