SON OF THE WIND
for took him by the throat, strangling him for a moment. "Where is the canvas?" he said, as soon as he could gather voice.
The half-breed pointed to where it lay, tossed to one side of the trail.
"Very well. Get me a blanket from camp—a red one if you can find it. Where's Jim?" He looked. behind him. He had not thought of the peon since he had left Raders', but here he was a yard from his heel, waiting. "Get the lassos up here right away. I want the ropes and the saddle, too. Jim can help you. Well, what are you standing there for?" He swung around, ready with a blow. "How are we to get through, do you think?"
Esmeralda Charley ran on his errand, and Carron looked after him in a fury. Why, the fellow had hesitated. He had looked as if he found something strange. Strange, good lord! There was nothing strange about Carron. There was nothing strange about Carron's giving orders; but it was damnably strange that any one should hesitate to carry them out. Why, what were these for, but to do as he said? Or he, if in this case, he did not know what he was saying? His throat was dry. He took a swallow of water from his canteen, threw the bottle on the ground, and threw off hat and coat. He gathered up the canvas and the poles, and, staggering, carried
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