I returned to camp determined to make the best of the situation, which owing to my failure to catch all of the gray devils, remained practically unchanged. Jim had been acquainted with my dilemma, as was manifest in his wet eyes and broad grin with which he greeted me.
"I think I'd scalp the Navvy," he said.
"You make the Indian sleep outside after this, snow or no snow," was Jones' suggestion.
"No I won't; I won't show a yellow streak like that. Besides, I want to give 'em to you fellows."
A blank silence followed my statement, to which Jim replied:
"Shore that'll be easy; Jones'll have 'em, so'll Emett, an' by thunder I'm scratchin' now."
"Navvy, look here," I said severely, "mucha no bueno! heap bad! You—me!" here I scratched myself and made signs that a wooden Indian would have understood.
"Me savvy," he replied, sullenly, then flared up. "Heap big lie."
He turned on his heel, erect, dignified, and walked away amid the roars of my gleeful comrades.
IX