In the morning Garrod awoke with a splitting head and a bad taste in his mouth. However, that seemed a small price to pay for nine hours of blessed forgetfulness.
There followed another day of prairie travel. Sir Bryson, when he wished to communicate with Jack, made Garrod his emissary, so that the two were obliged to meet and talk. On the approach of Garrod, Jack merely sucked in his lip, and stuck closely to the business of the day. These meetings were dreadful to Garrod. Only an indication of what he went through can be given. In the condition he was in he had to avoid the sharp-eyed Linda, and he was obliged to stand aside and see her ride off with Jack out of sight of the rest of the train. By nightfall his nerves were in strings again.
On this night after supper Jean Paul took pains to avoid him. Garrod was finally obliged to go to the Indians' fire after him.
"Look here, Jean Paul, I want to speak to you," he said sullenly.
Jean Paul, closing the book and taking off the spectacles with great deliberation, followed Garrod out of earshot of the others.
"I say give me another pipeful of that dope, Jean Paul," Garrod said in a conciliatory tone.
The half-breed had dropped his smooth air. "Ha! You come after it to-night," he sneered.
"Hang it! I'll pay you for it," snarled Garrod.
"My medicine not for sale," replied Jean Paul.
"Medicine?" sneered Garrod. "I'll give you five dollars for the little bagful."