"For two bits I'd knock your block off, right now."
"There isn't a cent in the camp." Kut-le turned to Rhoda. "You get the point of the conversation, I hope?"
Rhoda's eyes were blazing. She had gotten the point, and yet—Jim was a white man! Anything white was better than an Indian.
"I'd take my chances with Mr. Provenso," she said, joyfully conscious that nothing could have hurt Kut-le more than this reply.
Kut-le's lips stiffened.
"Lunch is ready," he said.
"None of your grub for mine," remarked Jim. "What are you going to do with me?"
"Alchise!" called Kut-le. "Eat something, then take this fellow out and lose him. Take the rest of the day to it. You know the next camp!"
Then he folded his arms across his chest and waited for Alchise to finish his meal. Jim stood in sullen silence for a minute. Then he seated himself on a nearby rock.
"No, you don't," he said. "If you get me out of here, you'll have to use force."