Rafe Todd caught the dark eyes that shot from ’Reesa’s face to his, and quickened his gait.
But Coquil suddenly stepped forward and clutched ’Reesa’s arm.
“Girl pretty,” he said, in the Klamath tongue. “Who she be?”
“She’s mine,” said the deserter, meeting the scout’s look of feigned inquisitiveness with a bold glance. “She belongs to Baltimore Bob.”
“What’ll Bob take for her?”
“Won’t sell her,” said the white Indian, jerking the girl’s arm from the red hand, and starting forward again.
“Did Mouseh give pale girl to Bob?” asked the runner, turning to the Modoc chief.
“Yes.”
“She make good Klamath squaw. Coquil got no one to warm his lodge. He like to buy pale girl, for he got heaps yellow stones.”
“Bob won’t sell his pale squaw for all the gold in California,” returned Jack. “So Coquil must go back squawless to the clear lake.”