“I thought you were opposed to my going?”
“I was—an’ I am yit. But if you go, I go, too.”
“Perhaps we don’t desire your company.”
A smile fluttered about the corners of Ross’s mouth.
“It don’t make no differ’nce,” was the dogged reply; “I’m goin’ anyhow. So move y’r things ’round in the dugout an’ make room fer us. I’m all ready. Ding-it-all-to-dangnation! I can’t stay here an’ see you go—an’ I won’t.”
“Shall we take him, Bright Wing?” Douglas mischievously inquired.
“Ugh!” exploded the Indian. “Joe him got heap long gun—him shoot much straight. Him go. Three braves kill sight more bad Shawnees than two. Joe go.”
“Very well,” Ross said slowly, with assumed reluctance in his tone, “you shall go, Joe. Is there anything you want to bring from your hut?”
“Nothin’.”—With a decided shake of the head.