Mose shook his head. "No, Slocum doan' come roun' dis ranch some more.
Monjee, he's too mooch 'fraid to stop roun' here. But Pete Smith, he
doan' care, so long he ain' see Mill."
"Pete Smith." She paused, shivering a little, then she laughed. "It's
funny, Mose, how creepy just his name makes me feel. I--I guess I will
let you go first--if you aren't afraid. But wait, what makes you think
it is Pete Smith?"
"For dat las' night, when A'm come back wid dose trout I catch down
stream, I see heem by Mo'sieur's plas. Sacre, but he ees going fin' he
ees lose some blankets, an' flour an' sugar, 'bout ev'ryt'ing, when he
comes home."
"You mean Pete had broken into the lodge. Oh, you should have gone
directly for Mill Thornton. But you tried to stop him, Mose? You at
least warned him that you surely would get word to Mr. Stratton?"
Again Mose shook his head. "You mus' on'stan' it ees bes' I let Pete
'lone. He doan' want me talk to heem dare. Monjee, no. It ees lak I
doan' see heem. Nawitka, I come straight 'way home."
He moved his rifle into the curve of his arm, and pushed by Alice,
leading on up the bluff, through labyrinths of hazel and alder, up short
sections of gullies. Just under the summit he stopped. "I doan' lak
lose dis fine new gun," he said softly, and began to fondle the stock.
"She's mooch more fine dan dat good gun of Pete Smith's. Nawitka, Mees,
mebbe he ees watch us come 'cross de gorge. Mebbe he ees goin' have one
drop on us. Den it ees bes' I leave dis gran' gun here; you think so,
ya-as?
"Perhaps, Mose. I hadn't thought of--that. It seemed safe to have it
along. He's the most hideous man. But he can't help that. And if he is
on--guard--well, leave the gun, Mose. Of course he wouldn't harm us. He
wouldn't dare."
Mose stood the rifle carefully in a hollow trunk, and moved on
cautiously. She kept very close to him up to the top of the bluff, and
there she laid her hand on his arm. "I'm frightened, Mose," she
whispered. "I'm frightened."
He looked at her gravely. "Mebbe you doan' care so mooch 'bout dat milk
now," he said.
She pulled herself straight. "It isn't the loss of the milk, Mose; you
should understand that. It's the principle. He can't take anything of
mine. It's wrong. Besides, if I let this go, unnoticed, we might wake
up any morning to find greater things missing. We might even find
Colonel gone."
She lifted her head higher and moved forward with new resolve. Mose
kept pace with her, and presently they halted, screened by a mesh of
young hemlock boughs, and looked out into the boulder-strewn open behind
the tower.
Smith was there. He was removing from the fire a trout which he had
cooked on a long sharpened stick. He worked with a noiseless, gliding
motion, and even when he seated himself on the flat rock, which became
at once both chair and table, and fell hurriedly to eating his
breakfast, he kept up a ceaseless pantomime; beating the earth softly
with his foot, starting up, subsiding, shivering, looking behind him,
listening, and like an animal long hunted, again starting.
Two horses stood near him accoutered for the trail. One, his own,
brought from Laramie's meadow, where at intervals it was pastured,
carried saddle-bags and a snug blanket roll at the crupper; the other
was an indifferent pack-animal laden with camp supplies.
"He ees tek de long trail, for sure," whispered Mose. "Monjee, how ees
it he ees leave Colonel?"
"If those are Mr. Stratton's things he's got to take them back," she
said. "Come, we must make him."