"Nothing," said Ralph; "but you're in bad company."
Joe could no longer hold himself in. His face was purple. "Who the hell do you think you are?" he cried thickly. "You stinking dude! You smooth-face poisoner! You rah-rah college boy. It makes my stomach turn to hear you lisping! What are you doing in a man's country? Go home to your pink teas and your toe-dancing!"
Ralph could not help but smile at the style of Joe's invective. The smile maddened Joe. The foulest dregs of English speech were fished up to express his feelings. The other white man laughed obsequiously. He was in Joe's pay. The half-breed pitched pebbles into the stream, handsome and unconcerned. Ralph took it all steely eyed and smiling still.
"You stand there like a little Gorramighty!" cried Joe, with a string of oaths. "What can you do against the four of us? We've got you where we want you now, and you know it! You'll be singing another tune before we're done with you!"
"Now you're talking!" cried Ralph, bright-eyed. "The truth is coming out at last!"
Stack all but wrung his hands at the turn things were taking. "Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" he implored.
"Ahh! shut your head," snarled Joe. "You hate him as much as me!"
Stack turned paler still, and darted a furtive look at Ralph, and cringed and tried to smile indulgently. "Don't listen to him," he said to Ralph. "You've made him mad. He don't mean what he says. It wasn't half an hour ago he said to me, 'Won't it be sport to surprise the Doctor?' There's no need for you to quarrel like this. We don't want to intrude upon your privacy. Come to our camp to supper to-night, and talk things over quiet, and shake hands on it."
Ralph preferred Joe's honest obscenity to this. He made no answer.
"Ah! come on!" said Joe. "I'm sick of your palaver!"