"Carlson good white man. All good white man dead. Sam Morgan, she dead, too."
"Sam Morgan!" exclaimed Connie. "What do you know of Sam Morgan?"
"Sam Morgan good to Injun. Me—mos' die, once—fi', seex winter 'go, in de beeg snow. Sam Morgan com' 'long. Hav' one small piece bacon—one small lump suet—eighteen mile—Hesitation. Me—I got no grub. Fi', seex day I ain' got no grub. Seek lak leetle baby. Sam Morgan, she mak' me eat—sam' lak heem. Den she peek me oop an' car' me—all night—all day. Nex' night, me'be so we no mak'. See de light in leetle cabin, an' den we com' Hesitation. Bot' of us, we pret' near die. An' Sam Morgan, she laugh." The old Indian paused and regarded the boy curiously: "Y'u know Sam Morgan?" he asked. The boy's eyes were very bright, and he cleared his throat huskily.
"Sam Morgan was my father," he said, in a low, unsteady tone. The Indian stalked to the boy and, pausing directly before him, lifted the small chin and gazed long and searchingly into the upturned grey eyes.
"Uh-huh," he grunted, "y'u Sam Morgan boy. Me hear 'bout y'u in Ten Bow."
"Where is Pete Mateese?" persisted Connie. The Indian no longer hesitated.
"Pete Mateese, she Ten Bow. Work hard for de money to buy grub an' tak' back to Carlson—way back, pas' de divide, in de lan' of Niju Tah—de lan' of de bad man, dead. But, she don' git no money. Meestaire Squeeg, she cheat Pete Mateese."
"Who is Misteh Squigg?" asked Waseche Bill.
"Meestaire Squeeg she leetle man. Got de nose lak de fox, an' de bad eye lak' de snake. All tam he mak' Pete Mateese work ver' mooch. Tell heem, he mak' plent' money. But she no giv' heem no money—always Pete Mateese got it comin'—she got to wait. Som' day Meestaire Squeeg she pull out—den Pete Mateese got nut'in."