But neither his previous curiosity nor present bravado seemed to impress the ragged stranger with much favor. He glanced sulkily around the cabin and began to shuffle towards the door. “Stop! Where are you going to? Sit down. I want to talk to you.” The fugitive hesitated for a moment, and then dropped ungraciously on the edge of a camp-stool near the door. The major looked at him. “I may have to remind you that I run this camp, and the boys hereabouts do pretty much as I say. What's your name?” “Tom.” “Tom? Well, look here, Tom! D--n it all! Can't you see that when a man is stuck here alone, as I am, he wants to know what's going on outside, and hear a little fresh talk?” The singular weakness of this blended command and appeal apparently struck the fugitive curiously. He fixed his lowering eyes on the major as if in gloomy doubt if he were really the reckless desperado he had been represented. That this man--twice an assassin and the ruler of outlaws as reckless as himself--should approach him in this half-confidential way evidently puzzled him. “Wot you wanter know?” he asked gruffly. “Well, what's my party saying or doing about me?” said the major impatiently. “What's the 'Express' saying about me?” “I reckon they're throwing off on you all round; they allow you never represented the party, but worked for yourself,” said the man shortly. Here the major lashed out. A set of traitors and hirelings! He had bought and paid for them all! He had sunk two thousand dollars in the “Express” and saved the editor from being horsewhipped and jailed for libel! Half the cursed bonds that they were making such a blanked fuss about were handled by these hypocrites--blank them! They were a low-lived crew of thieves and deserters! It is presumed that the major had forgotten himself in this infelicitous selection of epithets, but the stranger's face only relaxed into a grim smile. More than that, the major had apparently forgotten his desire to hear his guest talk, for he himself at once launched into an elaborate exposition of his own affairs and a specious and equally elaborate defense and justification of himself and denunciation of his accusers. For nearly half an hour he reviewed step by step and detail by detail the charges against him--with plausible explanation and sophistical argument, but always with a singular prolixity and reiteration that spoke of incessant self-consciousness and self-abstraction. Of that dashing self-sufficiency which had dazzled his friends and awed his enemies there was no trace! At last, even the set smile of the degraded recipient of these confidences darkened with a dull, bewildered disgust. Then, to his relief, a step was heard without. The major's manner instantly changed. “Well?” he demanded impatiently, as Dawson entered. “I came to know what you want done with HIM,” said Dawson, indicating the fugitive with a contemptuous finger. “Take him to your cabin!”