He laughed a little sadly, and rubbed his hands together to restore circulation. Suddenly he bent quickly. 'Ah! there's that rheumatism jumping up my leg again. Reckon I shouldn't be strolling around on a cold night. Guess I'll get inside.'
Presently he closed the door of the fort and watched Justin shoving pine sticks into the box stove. More interested than usual, he gazed upon the small bent figure, with grey hair falling over the neck, and heavily lined, expressionless face. Then he exclaimed,—
'Say, boy, how are the years going for you?'
The half-breed looked up and shook his head slowly.
'Don't know, eh? I guess you can't be far off sixty, boy. Anyway, I reckon you're older than this child.'
The other merely grunted. Age was a matter of perfect indifference to him.
'That's what it is, Justin. We're getting two stiff old baldheads. Say, boy, mind the time I thrashed Que-dane?'
A light crept into the half-breed's heavy eyes. He nodded his head violently.
'Couldn't do it now. Haven't got the nerve.'
'He walk this way now,' said Justin, shambling in awkward fashion across the floor.