Bill nodded.
“That’s better,” he said. Then he went on after a pause. “Say boy, if you’d been a whiteman I’d have shot you in your darn tracks for the thing you just said, and the thing you kind of hinted at. I had you covered right away as you came along up. But you’re an Indian. An’ more than that you belong to Marty Le Gros’ lone Kid. You’ve raised her, an’ acted father an’ mother to her, an’ you guess the sun just rises an’ sets in her. I’m glad. An’ I’m glad ther’ isn’t to be any fool shooting—yet. But, anyway, when ther’ is I want you to get a grip on this. I’m right in the business, an’ I’ve got your darn ole gun a mile beaten. I guess that makes things clear some, an’ we can get busy with our talk.”
The Indian made no reply, but there was a flicker of the eyelid, and an added sparkle in the man’s eyes as he listened to the whiteman’s scathing words.
Bill suddenly sat up and clasped his hands about his knees while the automatic pistol was thrust even more prominently.
“Here, Usak,” he went on, in the same quiet fashion, but with a note of conciliation in his tone. “You’re guessing all sorts of fool Indian things about that gal coming along up here to my camp. You talk of buying her with the gold I’ve stolen from her. If you’d been the man you guess you are you’d have got around, and sat in an’ heard all the talk of the whole thing. But you’re an Indian man, a low grade boy that guesses to steal around on the end of a gun, ready to play any dirty old game. No. Keep cool till I’ve done.”
Wilder’s gun was raised ever so slightly, and he waited while the leaping wrath of the Indian subsided. He nodded.
“That’s better,” he went on quickly. “You got to listen till I’m done. I’m goin’ to tell you things, not because I’m scared a cent of you, but because you’ve been good to the Kid, and you’re loyal, an’ maybe someday you’re going to feel that way to me. See? But right away I want you to get this into your fool head. I came along for two reasons to Caribou. One was to locate Marty Le Gros’ gold, an’ pass it over to the gal who belongs to it, an’ the other was to marry Felice Le Gros, the same as her father married her mother, an’ you, I guess, in your own fashion, married Pri-loo, who the Euralians killed for you. Now you get that? I don’t want the Kid’s gold, or land, or farm. They cut no ice with me. I’m so rich I hate the sight of gold. But I want the Kid. I want to marry her and take her right away where the sun shines and the world’s worth living in. Where she won’t need to worry for food or trade, an’ won’t need to wear reindeer buckskin all the time. And anyway won’t have to live the life of a white-Indian.”
The keen gaze of the whiteman held the Indian fast. There was no smile in his eyes. But there was infinite command and frank honesty. Usak stirred uneasily. It was an expression of the reaction taking place in him.
“Him marry my good boss, Kid?”
The savage had gone out of the man’s tone. The narrowed eyes had widened, and a curious shining light filled them.