Bill swallowed some tobacco juice, and coughed violently. Sunny was eaten up with a rage he could scarcely restrain. But Scipio turned to the children, who were now clinging silently to his moleskin trousers.
“Guess we’ll get busy an’ fix things up,” he said, laying caressing hands upon them. “You’ll need your dinners, sure. Poppa’s got nice bacon. How’s that?”
“Bully,” cried Vada promptly. Now that she had her father again everything was “bully.” But Jamie was silently staring up at the man’s distorted features. He didn’t understand.
Wild Bill recovered from his coughing, suddenly bestirred himself.
“Guess we’d best git goin’, Sunny,” he said quietly. “Zip’ll likely need to fix things up some. Y’see, Zip,” he went on, turning to the father, “Sunny’s done his best to kep things goin’ right. He’s fed the kiddies, which was the most ne’ssary thing. As for keppin’ the place clean,”––he pointed at the small sea of milk which still stood in pools on the floor––“I don’t guess he’s much when it comes to cleanin’ anything––not even hisself. I ’low he’s wrecked things some. Ther’s a heap of milk wasted. Howsum––”
“Say!” cried the outraged Sunny. But Bill would allow no interruption.
“We’ll git goin’,” he said, with biting coldness. “Come right along. So long, Zip,” he added, with an unusual touch of gentleness. “I’ll be along to see you later. We need to talk some.”
He moved over to Sunny’s side, and his hand closed upon his arm. And somehow his grip kept the loafer silent until they passed out of the hut. Once outside the gambler threw his shoulders back and breathed freely. But he offered no word. Only Sunny was inclined to talk.
“Say, he’s had a desprit bad time,” he said, with eyes ablaze.
But Bill still remained silent. Nor did another word pass between them until they reached Minky’s store.