"The thunder you are!" exploded Bridger. "What am I paying you wages for?"
"Then I must go without any wages."
"How? I have no mules to spare for men who quit me."
"Then I'll walk."
Bridger grew calmer and studied him sharply.
"It's the little girl, I take it," he finally remarked. "Old Hurry-Up Parker's girl."
Lander confessed by coloring highly. Bridger frowned and pursed his lips. Abruptly he said:
"I've seen her. 'Bout as big as a kitten. She's turned your head. I don't blame you. You're a fool but you've got a mighty pretty excuse.
"See here, Ferguson, I can use you after all. You shall winter with the Crows and bring their hunt here next season. I'll take all their robes, but it's beaver I want. Git 'em after beaver. I'll draw up the papers later and Baker will git up your equipment."
"Thank you, Mr. Bridger. Perhaps you can give me a writing, saying I lost my furs to the Blackfeet I'll send it to Fort Union by Mr. Phinny where one of the Red River breeds can take it up the Saskatchewan post. If the Black-
