"Make the stuff yourself then," said Storm indignantly.
"That's the proposition," answered the American; "and what do I get?"
"I'll replace the outfit them Injuns burned. You 'elps yourself."
"Done!"
The American had out a clasp knife, and whittled the edge of a packing case.
"And, say! When you auctions off them widders——"
"They're not my widders."
"Eh? Not your widders yet? Waal, now I kind of thought you was fell heir to them widders. Marrying all four?"
"None."
"'Cause ef they come reasonable I'm open to dicker for Two Bits."