“On second thought it would be cruel and unusual punishment to make any man listen to your tongue,” concluded Reivers solemnly.
MacGregor growled and shook his head.
“There’s no doubt that Shanty Moir of the black heart is a hard-grown, experienced man,” said he. “Henchmen of his—three of them, Welshmen all—came through here while James and he were hunting the mine, and he treated them like dogs and they him like a chieftain. ’Twas one of them you slew with the rock out yon, and the matter is very plain: Shanty Moir has got word to them and they have come to the mine and overpowered my brother James. You may judge of the strong hand he holds over his men when a single one of them dares to raid my camp in my absence and steal the daughter of James MacGregor for his chieftain—a strong, big man. ’Twill make it all the sweeter when we get him. He will die hard.”
“Also—being of a thrifty breed—you won’t feel sorry at getting hold of whatever gold he’s taken out,” suggested Reivers.
“That’s understood,” said MacGregor, and put a fresh chunk on the fire for the night.
CHAPTER XXVI—THE LOOK IN A WOMAN’S EYES
Next morning Hattie MacGregor, after she had fed him his morning’s meal, said casually to Reivers:
“You have about six days more to pump my uncle and get all he knows about my father’s mine. In six days you should be strong enough to travel, and so long and no longer do I keep you.”
“Six days?” repeated Reivers. “I may take it into my head to start before.”
“And that’s all the good that would do you,” she replied promptly. “You don’t go from here until you are firm on your feet, and that will be six days, about.”