"Oui, A'm t'ink you don' 'member Ol' Bat."
"Bat! Bat!" cried the man, "remember you! I guess I do remember you!" He seized a leathery hand in his own. "I'd rather see you, now, than any man in the world. What do you make of it, Bat? Tell me—what has happened?"
"Oui, A'm t'ink dat 'bout tam' A'm com' 'long. A'm t'ink you feel pret' bad, non? A'm com' 'long w'en de men com' back for no kin ketch Tex."
"You heard what they said?"
"Oui, A'm hear dat."
"Do you think they're alive?"
"Oui, bien! A'm stan' clos' I kin git beside de hoss, an' A'm hear dat man say de boat floatin' off, an' he ain' gon' spit 'bout dat. You com' 'long Ol' Bat—we fin' um."
Endicott thrust his face close and stared straight into the half-breed's eyes: "Have you been with Tex all the time—this past year?"
"Oui, him wagon boss on Y Bar, an' me, A'm cook."
"Would you have known it if he had been writing letters? Has he ever talked about—about—my wife?"