He stood balancing his lank six feet six of bony altitude for a few moments without replying. His large gentle eyes of baby blue were fixed on me.
"Speak!" I said. "The reputation of a lady is at stake! Who are you? We ask, before we shoot you, for purpose of future identification."
He gazed at me wildly. "I dunno who I be," he replied. "My name was James Skaw before that there lady went an' changed it on me. She says she has changed my name to hers. I dunno. All I know is I'm married."
"Married!" echoed Dr. Delmour.
He looked dully at the girl, then fixed his large mild eyes on me.
"A mission priest done it for her a month ago when we was hikin' towards Fort Carcajou. Hoon-hel are you?" he added.
I informed him with dignity; he blinked at me, at the others, at the mules. Then he said with infinite bitterness:
"You're a fine guy, ain't you, a-wishin' this here lady onto a pore pelt-hunter what ain't never done nothin' to you!"
"Who did you say I wished on you?" I demanded, bewildered.
"That there lady a-sleepin' into the nuptool hammick! You wished her onto me—yaas you did! Whatnhel have I done to you, hey?"