Part 24 (1/2)

Nex' night, me'be so we no mak'. See de light in leetle cabin, an' den we com' Hesitation. Bot' of us, we pret' near die. An' Sam Morgan, she laugh.” The old Indian paused and regarded the boy curiously: ”Y'u know Sam Morgan?” he asked. The boy's eyes were very bright, and he cleared his throat huskily.

”Sam Morgan was my father,” he said, in a low, unsteady tone. The Indian stalked to the boy and, pausing directly before him, lifted the small chin and gazed long and searchingly into the upturned grey eyes.

”Uh-huh,” he grunted, ”y'u Sam Morgan boy. Me hear 'bout y'u in Ten Bow.”

”Where is Pete Mateese?” persisted Connie. The Indian no longer hesitated.

”Pete Mateese, she Ten Bow. Work hard for de money to buy grub an' tak'

back to Carlson--way back, pas' de divide, in de lan' of Niju Tah--de lan' of de bad man, dead. But, she don' git no money. Meestaire Squeeg, she cheat Pete Mateese.”

”Who is Misteh Squigg?” asked Waseche Bill.

”Meestaire Squeeg she leetle man. Got de nose lak de fox, an' de bad eye lak' de snake. All tam he mak' Pete Mateese work ver' mooch. Tell heem, he mak' plent' money. But she no giv' heem no money--always Pete Mateese got it comin'--she got to wait. Som' day Meestaire Squeeg she pull out--den Pete Mateese got nut'in.”

”Yo' say he's a li'l slit-eyed runt--rat-faced--with a squeaky voice?”

Waseche mimicked Mr. Squigg's tone. The Indian nodded emphatically, and for a long time Waseche was silent--thinking.

”An' yo' say these heah is Pete Mateese's dawgs?” Again the Indian nodded, and Waseche Bill's eyes narrowed: ”An' yo' say they ah in Ten Bow--Pete Mateese an' this heah Misteh Squigg?”

”Ten Bow,” repeated the Indian. ”Meestaire Squeeg, she tak' de gol' an'

buy de claim.” Waseche Bill turned to the others:

”Come on, we'll hit the trail!” And then, to the Indian, ”Yo' come, too, an' fetch them dawgs.” Connie noticed that his big partner's voice was very low, and once, turning quickly, he surprised the cold, hard gleam in the grey eyes.

”He must be the same man that tried to make me give up my claim, the time I beat out the Ten Bow stampede,” confided the boy, as he mushed beside Waseche's sled.

”Oh, he did--did he?” asked the man, in the same low, hard tone. ”We'll jest count that in, too.”

”What do you mean? Do you know Mr. Squigg?”

”No. But I _will_,” drawled Waseche. ”Yo' see, kid, he's the man I bought them dawgs off of last fall in Eagle. Come along, now, le's mush.

I'm gettin' plumb anxious to meet up with this heah Misteh Squigg.”

CHAPTER XXII

THE MAN WHO DIDN'T FIT

The return of Connie Morgan and Waseche Bill to Ten Bow, and the events that followed, are told to this day on the trails.

McDougall paused for a chat with Dutch Henry beside the long black dump of the German's claim.

”It's most time for the break-up, Mac,” said the owner of the dump.

”We'll sluice out big, this spring.”

”Yes, mon, we will,” agreed McDougall, as his eyes roved to the small snow-covered dump across the creek. ”But, it's sore I've hated to see yon claim idle the winter--an' the laddie gaen--an' Waseche Bill--heaven knaws wheer. D'ye mind what the mon fr' Eagle told, how the lad c'd na be stopped, but trailed on after Waseche--on to the Lillimuit?

They'll na com' back.” Dutch Henry nodded.

”Sure, Mac, but whad' ye 'spect from the breed of Sam Morgan? 'Member how he beat us all to these here diggin's, with ondly them three old dogs. I'd give my claim to have 'em safe back. An' I'm sorry you lost your ten-team, too, Mac.”

”Los.h.!.+ Mon! 'Tis na'thing at a'--the dogs! The laddie tuk 'em--an'

welcome. Ye sh'd o' seed the luk i' his e'e, the mornin' he com' bustin'