“’Tain’t. I’m a swell hunter. I ken get foxes all the time. That’s why I don’t worry with Pideau. You want to stop around when Pideau quits?”
Annette’s eyes widened. And the Wolf saw the thing he desired as she mutely nodded her answer.
The boy straightened himself up. His fine eyes were shining.
“You ken if you feel that way. An’ I’d be glad to have you around. I’ll be a man soon. An’ you’ll be a grown woman. When Pideau quits we can make a big getaway into the forests so he can’t locate us. We can marry then. An’ I’ll hunt pelts, an’ make big money, an’ you can stop around an’ fish trout. It ’ud be swell. An’ we’d be quit of Pideau, who’s a thief.”
The boy was serious. Deadly serious. And Annette eyed him curiously. Then of a sudden she began to laugh. The boy’s cheeks flamed with sudden anger.
“Oh, you great, big, swell hunter!” Annette cried maddeningly. “Oh, you brave fool man! You! You! Say, Wolf, you beat it an’ hunt gophers, an’ leave me to my fishing. You take your curs with you, and the gun you can shoot so good with. Marry you? Why, I hate you, you fool kid.”
She turned and picked up her rod, and the Wolf heard it whistle through the air. Then, out of his hot anger, he did the thing she had ordered. He shouldered his rifle and flung his answer back at her as he went.
“Hate all you reckon to, Annette,” he cried, as he made towards the tethered pony, with his dogs leaping about his moccasined heels. “It won’t help you. You’ll marry me, sure. I fixed that. See?”
He grinned back at her, his anger swept away by that humor that was never long at fault. Then he added:
“Guess I’ll get after them wolves so you’ll know it ain’t Luana dyin’.”