“I believe you had attempted to desert,” said Stephen, with illy-concealed disgust.
“Well, you might call it an attempt. I reckon the colonel counts it more then that. I held the lead for more than a hundred miles, and I reckon I'd be holding it yet only my hoss went lame. It was the best hoss the colonel owned, too.” His smile never lost a certain amiability; it seemed to spring from the unperverted innocence of his nature.
“How did you get here?” demanded Stephen.
“Ask him. He done it,” and he jerked his thumb in the direction of Basil. Stephen turned to the fur trader.
“What have you to say about this?” he asked gravely.
“He's all right. I'll vouch for him and the half-breeds,” he said.
“That isn't what I want to know. I want to know how he happens to be here,” insisted Stephen.
“I fixed that with the half-breeds,” and Basil laughed.
“You mean you got them to break jail for him?”
“What the devil difference does it make?”