“Don’t show off your smartness, bub,” sharply spoke the man at last, as he fully comprehended that Ree had purposely given him an evasive answer, “I asked a civil enough question.”
“And got a civil answer,” Ree quickly replied.
“I see you are emigrating,” the stranger went on, trying to make his coarse voice sound friendly. “I just had in mind puttin’ a flea in your ear. Because it is the wrong time of year to be goin’ west, in the first place, and the woods are full of Indians and the roads alive with cutthroats, in the second place. If I was you young shavers I’d sell out and wait a year or two, or till next spring anyhow, before goin’ any further. I s’pose you have a lot of goods in your cart; goin’ to do some tradin’ with the Mingoes, maybe.”
John pricked up his ears at this reference to the nature of their cart’s contents, but waited for Ree to speak. This the latter did at once, respectfully but firmly.
“We are much obliged for your advice and the interest you take in us, but we expect to be able to take care of ourselves both on the road and in the woods. Aren’t you the man we saw in the barn as we were coming up?”
The question was an experimental thrust. Ree wished to learn whether the fellow would give a reason for having spied upon them. The man looked at him searchingly before replying.
“I never clapped eyes on you till you come into this room,” he coolly said, however. “What do you take me for? I was only goin’ to tell you that I know a man that will buy your outfit if you want to sell!”
“Which we do not,” said Ree with moderate emphasis.
“You would find a little ready money mighty handy; I don’t s’pose you have any too much,” the stranger replied with assumed carelessness.
“Say; tell us what you are trying to get at, will you!” John spoke up, with a show of spirit.