“How many are there in your party?” he said, after giving me a long, fixed look.
“Two other white men and six boys.”
“Wait for just a moment. I want to have a few words with you.”
I set my rifle against the stump of a tree and stood before him with my arms folded. The creature seemed to have become more human.
“Would it be of any use asking you not to tell your companions anything about your having met me?”
“Well—you see—I have my two boys with me; even if I hold my tongue they are sure to talk.”
A queer ghost of a smile seemed to flit across the stern face.
“I know you will keep your word if you give it,” he replied, “and I will make it right with the boys. Will you promise? Take time to think if you like.”
A great pity for the poor creature before me seemed to swell in my breast. Why should I not grant his request? Why should I darken, in no matter how slight a degree, a life apparently overloaded by some great tragedy? Of course I felt flattered by his estimate of my veracity.
“Yes, I promise,” I said.