"Oh, no," said Pond, with some confusion in his manner. "But a very dear friend of mine married him not long since, and for her sake I feel a sort of interest in the man. I fancied that he was rather wild when under the influence of liquor, but for all, a brave and generous man, when truly himself."
"Brave, as brutes are, when he feels he has the power to kill in his hands; but generous? Never!" said Miss Neidic.
"You are his enemy."
"No; for he has never done me, personally, an injury; but he has injured friends of mine–sent more than one down to untimely graves."
"There, I said it–you are his enemy, because of what he has done to your friends.
"I am not his friend, nor do I wish to be the friend of such a man. But the enmity of a woman is nothing to him. He looks for friends among such men as he now consorts with–California Joe, Sam Chichester, and that crowd. I know but one real gentleman in the party, and that one is Jack Crawford."
"I know none of them."
"You lose nothing, then, for it is little honor one gains by such acquaintances. They suit Wild Bill, for they drink, gamble, and shoot on little cause; they are ready for any adventure, never stopping to count risks or look back when evil is commenced or ruin wrought, no matter what may be its nature."
The entrance of the young Texans now caused a change in the topic of conversation.
"I have learned when that party start." he said. "They are making their final preparations to-night, and will break camp in this morning early enough to make Twenty-mills Creek for their first night's halt–probably about ten o'clock."