"No explosive charges," replied Jim.
"The devil you say!" cried Homer. "No powder! That's old Hercules Ducat, the tricky old skunk. He loaned me the rifle an' ca'tridges. But he'll wish he hadn't been so smart when I put the law onto him."
"You should be very grateful to him," returned Jim. "You would be a murderer now if they had been all right."
The rest of the evening was passed in silence. Supper was eaten in silence.
Jim was awakened by Flora before dawn.
"Now I must tie you up," she whispered, with her lips very close to his ear.
She bound his wrists comfortably. She bound his ankles. Then she kissed him swiftly and slipped away. He smiled and fell asleep again. His dreams were scattered again half an hour later by the sharp punching of a moccasined toe against his ribs. He opened his eyes and beheld Homer Steeves standing over him.
"Wake up an' feed yer face, Mr. Dood!" cried Homer; and then, as Jim pretended to try to free his wrists, he laughed with loud derision.
Jim scowled and maintained a sullen silence throughout breakfast, but he ate heartily.
"Go to it," jeered Homer. "It's a durn sight better'n the grub ye'll get in jail."