“Kirker’s right,” Rejoined another; “and I’ve made up my mind to have one, or bust.”
“But how are ye goin’ to feed ’em on the road? We ha’n’t meat if we take one apiece.”
“Meat be hanged!” ejaculated the second speaker; “we kin reach the Del Norte in four days or less. What do we want with so much meat?”
“There’s meat a-plenty,” rejoined Kirker. “That’s all the captain’s palaver. If it runs out we kin drop the weemen, and take what o’ them’s handiest to carry.”
This was said with a significant gesture, and a ferocity of expression revolting to behold.
“Now, boys! what say ye?”
“I freeze to Kirker.”
“And I.”
“And I.”
“I’m not goin’ to advise anybody,” added the brute. “Ye may all do as ye please about it; but this niggur’s not a-goin’ to starve in the midst o’ plenty.”