She sat upright with her anger boiling toward expression. Before she
realized it he had leaned forward and laid his hand on the pommel of
her saddle, his face still red and wrinkled with laughter.
"That's all right, little lady, but you don't know quite all about us."
"I know enough," she answered.
"Before you get to California you'll know more. There's a mountain man
and a voyageur now in the train. Do you think Zavier and I have squaw
wives?"
With the knowledge that Zavier was just then so far from contemplating
union with a squaw, she could not say the contemptuous "yes" that was
on her tongue. As for the strange man--she shot a glance at him and
met the gray eyes still twinkling with amusement. "Savage!" she
thought, "I've no doubt he has"--and she secretly felt a great desire
to know. What she said was, "I've never thought of it, and I haven't
the least curiosity about it."
They rode on in silence, then he said,
"What's made you mad?"
"Mad? I'm not mad."
"Not at all?"
"No. Why should I be?"
"That's what I want to know. You don't like me, little lady, is that
it?"
"I neither like nor dislike you.
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