“I takest off cap to you, lad,” he continued as Reivers and Neopa re-entered. “Hast got thy squaws fair buffaloed.” His eyes ran over the shrinking Neopa in cruel appraisal. “Now, old sonny, out with it. What’s thy idea of tuh bargain?”
Reivers looked longingly toward the empty whisky bottle.
“Said enough,” laughed Moir. “Shall have all tuh hooch thy guts can hold.”
Reivers shook his head, a sly grin appearing on his lips.
“Hooch is good,” said he, “but gold is better.”
“Go on,” said Moir sullenly.
“You’ve got gold,” continued Reivers. “I saw it. You’ve got lots of gold; I’ve heard them talk about you down at Raftery’s. You want us to go with you when you go back to your camp, don’t you?”
“I want the women,” he said brutally. “I might be able to use you, too.”
Reivers cackled and rubbed his hands.