"I won't. Them things is goin' to hang you higher'n the moon the first you know," said Zeke, scowling savagely at the elegant Mexican costume which George lifted from the bed. "Don't you never go 'crost the river with them duds on, 'cause if you do Fletcher'll string you up for a spy."
"Not in peace-times, I guess," answered George.
"What odds does it make to sich as him whether it's peace-times or not? You'll see."
"Well, he will have to catch me before he hangs me. Go and tell the cook that I am getting tired of waiting for breakfast."
"I won't; I won't never do nothin' for you no more, nor say another word to you, nuther."
"I am sorry you feel so bad about it," said George as he proceeded to pack his clothes away in a canvas bag he had provided for that purpose; "but the thing is done, and it can't be undone."
"I don't care if the Greasers come over here next full moon an' steal every huf an' horn you've got," exclaimed the angry herdsman.
"I do," replied George; "I don't want them to do anything of the kind. I don't want them to steal another steer from me or anybody else, and that is the very reason I became a scout. Our troops are going to teach those fellows to stay on their own side of the river, and I am going to help them do it."
"There's enough without you," growled Zeke.
"Suppose that everybody thought so; where would we get the men to fight our battles?—What in the world is that?"