ber—I'd forgotten it until now—that there's a national law against giving whisky to Indians. Besides—you've got work to do to-morrow, and I want you to be fresh."
It was the first time since his arrival in Smoky Land that he had mentioned the man's race. He knew that he ran the risk of wakening savage anger in the Indian's breast. Yet he was willing to take that risk.
"What you got to say about it?" the Indian responded insolently. "We go back to-morrow. Job's over. You ain't given it to me, I found it. Come on—maybe take a little drink together."
At that instant Hugh remembered that he was of a dominant race, and the familiarity of the remark grated somewhat unpleasantly upon him. He got up rather leisurely. He felt that in case of emergencies he preferred to be upon his feet. "Put the bottles back," he said again. "I happen to be in command of this expedition. If you don't obey, I'll fire you right here—and you know what that would mean as far as ever getting a job as guide again. Put 'em back and put 'em back quick."
The Indian's expression changed. The sullenness gave way to surprise; then—to some measure, at least—to respect. He turned and walked back to the tent. Then Hugh heard his powerful strokes as he cut more fuel for the fire.
Hugh went to bed soon after this, and the
