A feeble interest spread over the other's dusky countenance. A light crept into his small eyes. 'He great big man, and strong. No man beat him yet.'
The Factor laughed loudly. 'Don't trouble about that, boy. Tell you I shall knock the spots off him in short order. He's never had a fellow around him who could wrestle before.'
'What you beat him with?'
'Goldam. I never thought of that.' He stopped in the centre of the rough trail and scratched the thick hair at the back of his head for inspiration.
'Say, boy, who lives in the shack yonder?'
'Old wife—by herself.'
'That's good. Hustle over there; scare the old woman into lending you her axe. If she don't want, I'll forgive you if you steal it.'
The half-breed was very nearly astonished. 'Surely,' he exclaimed, 'you not going to kill the man with the axe?'
'My racket, boy. You hump along and fetch it.'
Justin obeyed, and presently returned with the implement, followed at a distance by the inquisitive old wife herself. He came upon his master standing in a thicket of young oaks, which had sprung up in a small fire clearing. The Factor grabbed at the axe and severed three saplings at the roots, then rapidly trimmed them down to a four foot length. This accomplished, he took each stick—they were about three inches in diameter—placed his big foot on the large end, and twisted violently, until they were like ropes. Then he grimly handed them to Justin, the two continued their journey, and later halted before the closed tent of Que-dane, bigamist and robber.