"Wull, no; Menke's about the same all over," returned he, and, suddenly changing the subject, continued: "Goin' far up the mountain, Tez?"
"Not far. We're only out for a short hunt this morning. Mit, there, enjoys a trip to the mountains occasionally."
"Good mornin', Princess," he said to Mitla. "Had any luck, eh?"
"Yes, I have one beautiful bird, a pheasant. See! Is it not a pretty one?" she replied, showing him the prize.
"Nice bird, Princess. Shot it yerself, eh?"
"Certainly, but wish I had not; it is such a lovely bird," she returned, looking sorrowfully at it.
"That's the woman of ye, Princess. Women don't make good hunters; they're too squeamish," he observed, rather contemptuously.
"You, no doubt, speak truly, Menke; but it is our nature, and we can not help it," she replied, her eyes fixed on the bird with an expression of sadness.
Menke turned to Tezcot, and said:
"Say, Tez, wish ye'd jine me in a trip across the mountain to-day. Can't do it, eh?"