"Well, sir," he inquired, "do I take it that you desire to further detain me here, or do you merely wish to steal my rifle?"
"I think, truly, that you no longer require your rifle, Mr. Butler," I said quietly.
"A question—a matter of opinion, Mr. Renault." He waved his hand gracefully. "Who are your red friends yonder?" pointing toward the two distant forms at the edge of the willows.
"An Oneida and a quarter-breed."
"Oh—a squaw? By the head-gear I take the smaller one to be a Huron squaw. Which reminds me, Mr. Renault," he added, with a dull stare, "that the last time I had the pleasure of seeing your heels you were headed for the nearest parson!"
That awful, soundless laugh distorted his mouth again:
"I could scarcely be expected to imagine," he added, "that it was as far as this to Gretna Green. Is the Hon. Miss Grey with you here?"
"No, Mr. Butler, but your wife is with me."
"Oh!" he sneered; "so you have learned at last what she is?"
"You do not understand," I continued patiently. "I speak of your wife, Mr. Butler. Shall I name her?"