"See here," began Dugan, in a whining voice, "yer ain't riled at the way I talked, a spell back, are ye? I'm an outspoken feller, I am."
"No, I'm not a bit mad, Dugan," assured Bob.
"Wal," "Little Bill" looked cautiously around, "there ain't nobody here who knows the mountains better'n Sanders an' me. Don't need ter go no further fur a guide. Yer couldn't never go there alone. Somebody out of the crowd would sure git lost, or fall down a precerpice, or be drownded in one of them mountain streams. It's certain as your name ain't Willie. Say—is it a go?"
"I'll have to talk to the other chaps, Dugan," answered Bob, evasively.
"But it's only right to take me, after what I've lost," persisted the other. "Ain't that so?"
"I'll talk to you about it later."
Captain Bob's manner was not encouraging, and Dugan's expression began to change.
"I suppos'n you'll have Havens," he snapped, "an' is skeered ter say so."
Bob made no answer, but a faint smile flitted across his face, and Dugan was quick to notice it. Two lines, rivaling those on his uncle's forehead, appeared, and he turned away abruptly.
"Wal, I don't keer what yer does," he snapped.