I laughed hilariously at this saying, as though it were something hugely amusing. But between you and me, I do not think that Mr. Pinkerton spoke it from his own kind heart but spoke thus more as some sensitive men wear a cloak of pride or shyness or a false bombast to protect them from other men less finely tuned. It was, I believe, only to show a hard front before these new partners of ours, as villainous a trio as you ever clapped eyes on, that he spoke in this light way of the doings of death; because at my laugh I saw him frown as though he regretted that I could enjoy his bitter jest so fully. In a dazed way I saw the party mounting; but so great difficulty had I in gaining the saddle of a horse—whose horse I do not know; I think it was the mount of the man called Cockeye—that Donoghue came to my side and held the stirrup and gave me a "leg up" and, "Are you scared, or what?" he said in my ear, low and angry and with something of contempt. "You ’ve made a hash of to-day for us as it is, with goin’ and gettin’ that accident. Are you scared o’ them fellers?" "Scared!" said I. "Man! I ’ve been tortured." "Been what?" said he, and he got on to that vicious mount of his with such a viciousness himself, in his pull of the rein and lunge of his spurs, that I saw Mr. Pinkerton give him a look as who should say: "He’s a devil of a man, that." But Donoghue crowded his beast to my side and asked me what I meant by my remark of being tortured, and I told him the whole matter of it as we rode across the plateau, all lit now with the thin last glow of day. He listened with his head to one side and his loose jaw tightening and thrusting out. "I take back what I said to you," said he. "I take it back right now; and as for hindering our journey—why that could n’t be helped. Better that we met these fellows right here, face to face, instead of goin’ on unknowing and getting shot by ’em round the fire to-morrow night or plugged through the windows of the Lost Cabin three nights hence." This might have given me an idea of how far we had still to go—or rather should I say, in a country such as this, of vast distance, of how nigh we already were to our journey’s end, had I been much heeding that evening. He held out his hand to me across his saddle (I was riding on his left), and as we shook hands I saw the man Pete look at us with a doubtful eye. And for a surety there was every reason why these fellows should be suspicious of us and be wary and watchful of our movements.