“You’re needin’ your wife?” Bill went on brusquely.
Again Scipio nodded. But this time words came, too.
“But you was right,” he said. “I saw it all after. I was plumb wrong. An’––an’ I ain’t holding you to––what you said. You jest wanted to put me right. I understood that––after.”
Bill stirred uneasily, and kicked a protruding limb of the tree on which he sat.
“You’re a heap ready to let me out,” he cried, with a return to his harshest manner. “Who in blazes are you to say I don’t need to do the––things I said I’d do? Jest wait till you’re ast to.” He turned away, and Scipio was left troubled and wondering.
But suddenly the lean body swung round again, and the little prospector felt the burning intensity of the man’s eyes as they concentrated on his flushing face.
“You’re needin’ your wife?” he jerked out.
“More’n all the world,” the little man cried, with emotion.
“Would you put up a––a scrap fer her?”
“With anybody.”