“It’s done now—an’ good an’ done!” Joe grumbled. “But it’s all we’ve got, an’ we’ll make the best of it. Dang a long an’ limber tongue, anyhow! Mine’s alluz gittin’ me into some dangnation trouble. Well, we can cut off the burnt parts an’ feed ’em to the dog. Jest see the hungry purp! Looks like he’d like to take a slice out o’ me, this very minute. Ther’, Duke, clap y’r jaws on that. Gone a’ready, an’ wantin’ more? Ross Douglas, I may have a colony o’ frogs in me, but this houn’ o’ yours is infested with a tapeworm bigger ’n a black-snake—he is, by King Solermen’s harem! Git y’r knife out, an’ le’s fall to an’ eat; no use to wait on the Injin—no tellin’ where he is.”
Ross’s preoccupied air had not deserted him; and he ate sparingly of the tempting food. The eccentric woodman ravenously devoured great slices of the meat, grudgingly tossing the dog the burnt portions. At last he paused in his masticatory process and exclaimed:
“Ross, somethin’s botherin’ you the worst kind; an’ whatever it is, it’s takin’ y’r appetite.”
“I’m thinking,” Douglas replied.
“Well, what’re you thinkin’ of?”
“Of what has become of Bright Wing.”
“An’ what’s yer c’nclusion?”
“That he has gone back over our trail, to discover if we are followed.”
“It’s more’n likely,” Joe assented. “But we can’t do nothin’ but wait fer him, can we?”
“No.”