Hopeful looked at him in silence, Jig-Leg, collecting the osiers together, bound them into a bundle, and snorted angrily. The reflection of the fire fell upon his face, and his face, with the bristling moustaches, was red and angry.
Hopeful turned away and sighed heavily.
"I spit upon such sentiments. I say—do as you like," said Jig-Leg, hoarsely and viciously. "But let me tell you this," he went on, "if you go hedging like this any more, you are no company for me. To that I mean to stick. I know what you are, you...."
"You're an odd chap...."
"No more tall talk."
Hopeful squirmed and coughed; then after coughing his cough out, he sighed heavily.
"Do you know why I talk so much about it? Because it is dangerous."
"All right!" cried Jig-Leg angrily.
He picked up the osier-twigs, flung them over his shoulder, shoved the unfinished basket under his arm, and rose to his feet.
Hopeful also stood up, looked at his comrade, and softly approached the horse.