“Raymond's my name, Cap,” repeated the stranger affably. “Like I should spell it for you?”
“Where's his rifle, why ain't he armed, and how does it come he knows your cousin?” cried Rogers.
“Party's eyesight ain't a failing him yet,” murmured the stranger in a tone of caressing confidence to Stephen. “Well,” he added, “since you seem to object to us, me and my friends here'll just cut loose.”
“No you don't, Raymond!” cried Basil angrily.
“See you in Salt Lake,” said Raymond, gathering up his reins. “Enquire for me.”
“I'll see you all the way there, too,” retorted Basil with an oath. He spoke sharply to the half-breeds, who at once closed up, one on each side of Raymond. The latter dropped back in his saddle, relaxing his hold on the bridle rein. Stephen regarded him in silence for a moment.
“Didn't I see you at Fort Laramie?” he asked.
The stranger, still smiling, nodded, and raising his hand to the corner of his mouth spat decorously back of it.
“In the colonel's quarters, was it not?” said Stephen sternly.
“The blamed old tarrapin was snapping away at me right lively;” he was still smiling pleasantly. He gestured slightly with his hand. “Out here, me and him would have had some sort of a falling out I reckon, but back yonder I had to swallow what he said, though his words were choky enough. Them army men's real candid.”