Part 29 (1/2)
A wounded man always craves water, and by one o'clock in the afternoon the half-breed's tongue was fairly lolling out of his mouth. He stood it awhile longer, then summoned Pompey.
”Give me a drink,--I am dyin'.”
”I dun tole you dat it was ag'in the ma.s.sah's ordahs, sah.”
”He said I could have water if I would talk,” growled Stiger.
”Is yo' ready to talk?”
”Yes.”
At once the negro called his master, who was busy, with the boys and Poke Stover, in putting down some hog-meat for the winter. Knowing how greatly Stiger must suffer, Amos Radbury went to him without delay.
”So you are willing to talk now, Stiger?”
”How can I help myself?”
”Then tell me why you tried to blow up my cabin?”
”I wanted to git squar' fer havin' me locked up.”
”But you deserved to be locked up, after that attack on Dan and Henry Parker.”
At this the half-breed shrugged his shoulders.
”And you must remember perfectly well what you did before that,”
continued Amos Radbury.
”I didn't get Bison Head to attack you,--he did that on his own account.”
”But you came in afterward and robbed the place. It is useless for you to deny any longer that you took those papers relating to this grant of land.”
For several minutes Stiger was silent. At last he lifted his eyes.
”Are you goin' to give me dat drink?” he asked, falling back into his Indian accent.
”Yes,--if you'll promise to tell me about the papers.”
”I--I will.”
Pompey was at once sent for a pitcher of fresh water, and when it arrived Hank Stiger grabbed it with both hands and drained it dry.
Nectar could not have tasted sweeter to him.
”Now what did you do with the papers?” Amos Radbury asked, after Stiger had given a long sigh of satisfaction.
”I--I lost 'em.”
Instantly Amos Radbury's face flushed, and he sprang to his feet.