It had been raining and the girl, a full blood Cayuga,
shivered in the damp and crouched beside the stove.
Tom Barrett started when he saw her. His color rose and he began to
mark up the table with his thumb nail. I could see he felt his fix.
The girl--Indian right through--showed no surprise at seeing him
there, but that did not mean she would keep her mouth shut about it
next day, Tom was undoubtedly _discovered_.
Notwithstanding her unwelcome presence, however, Jackson managed to
whisper to me that the Forest Warden and his officers were alive
and bound for the Reserve the following day. But it didn't worry me
worth a cent; I knew we were safe as a church with Tom Barrett's
clerical coat in our midst. He was coming over to our corner now.
"That hundred's right on the dead square, Dan?" he asked anxiously,
taking my arm and moving to the window.
I took a roll of bank notes from my trousers' pocket and with my
back to the gang counted out ten tens. I always carry a good wad
with me with a view to convenience if I have to make a hurried exit
from the scene of my operations.
He shook his head and stood away. "Not till I've earned it, McLeod."
What fools very young men make of themselves sometimes.
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