The older man’s florid face took on a deeper tint. One of his fat hands suddenly drew into a fist. Barreau had penetrated his hide, in some way that I could not quite understand. And I imagine there would have been some sort of explosion on the spot, but for the timely diversion of a man’s head parting the door-flaps. “Them hosses is ready,” he briefly announced. And Barreau turned his back on Mr. Montell forthwith. I did likewise. For all I did I might as well have stayed in the tent. Barreau and Steve went silently about saddling one horse and lashing a pack-tree on another. In the dull light from the tent I could barely make shift to see, but they seemed to know every strap and tying-place, and the thing was quickly done. Last of all, they folded Barreau’s clothing and two or three pairs of heavy blankets in the tarpaulin, and bound the roll on top of the food-supply. Then Barreau stepped once more within the tent. What he said to Montell did not reach my ears. At any rate, it was brief. Watching his shadow on the canvas wall I saw him turn to come out, saw him stop and bend over something near the flaps. He straightened up with a sharp exclamation, and this time I heard distinctly what he said. “By the Lord, you have been fool enough to let her come farther even! Oh, you miserable——” His words ran into a blur of sound. Montell raised in his cot again. I could see the bulk of him outlined against the farther side. “Now, see here, George,” he burst out irritably. “This is goin’ too far. Between you and Jessie I’ve had a heap of trouble this trip. And my patience has got limits. Yes, sir. It’s got limits! I’m doin’ the best I can, and you got to do the same. You go to backin’ old man Montell into a corner, and the fur’ll fly. You act like you was a schoolboy, and I’d took your cap away.” I don’t think that Barreau made any reply to this. If he did the words were softly spoken, and he was not the man to speak softly, considering the mood he was in just then. He was out of the tent almost before Montell had finished. “Steve,” he said, in a matter-of-fact way as he laid hold of his stirrup (I was already mounted), “let me have your hat. I lost mine in the shuffle.” Without comment Steve took the hat from his head and handed it up to him. “So-long,” he grunted laconically. “So-long, Steve,” said Barreau. The candle in Montell’s tent blinked out with the words. Barreau caught up the lead-rope of our pack-pony, and then, as silently as we had come, we rode away. CHAPTER X—“THERE’S MONEY IN IT”