"Slick lookin' gun ye got there," remarked Ducat.
Jim handed it over for the woodsman's closer inspection. It was greatly admired and politely returned.
"Think ye can fight?" asked Mark Ducat.
"Might," returned Jim.
"Look-a-here, Todhunter—I don't know yer baptism name—I like ye! An' I'm goin' to talk right out to yer face, for yer own good an' my satisfaction. I can't say fairer nor that, I guess."
"My front name's Jim. Fire away!"
"Well, now, Jim, I'm Cock o' the River."
"All right," said Jim. "But I can still walk in the woods."
At that moment a girl appeared around a bend in the road ahead, within twenty yards of them. At sight of them she ran forward. They turned to her, and Jim lifted his cap. She was a tall girl of about eighteen, perhaps. In the first glance, Jim noticed her eyes more particularly than anything else about her, for they were green—green of several tints and shades, full of light and of strange depths, like clear, green water running over dark, vivid moss.
"You tell 'im, Flora," said Ducat. "He's kinder pig-headed an' don't get the idee. He's for goin' around here any time he feels like it."