This was extremely gratifying to the sable individual, for it was proof positive that the Mohave had not forgotten the kindness which he had received, and that he was well disposed toward the unfortunate African.
“How lucky dat he doesn’t know I wanted to come de gold trick ober him--don’t b’lebe he’d tink so much ob me. Tank you, I guess I’ll smoke.”
He inclined his head forward, and the pipe stem was inserted between his teeth, and he puffed at him in a style which showed that there was no pretended enjoyment on his part.
“Dat ’ere tastes good, I can tell you,” he said, with an expression on his shiny face of genuine pleasure. “I’s much obliged to you, an’ you needn’t be ’fraid ob ’fending me if you want to offer it to me to-morrer agin.”
The Mohave knowing nothing at all of English, and Jim Tubbs understanding not the first syllable of Mohave, it is not to be supposed that they got along very well in conversation. Jim tried increasing the loudness of his voice, but that did not seem to help matters, and their communication therefore took the character of signs, the African’s words being thrown in by way of embellishment.
After he had smoked awhile, he turned his back so that the Mohave might see how his arms were bound, and then said:
“Jus’ cut dem, won’t you? I’ll be much obliged.”
The Indian unquestionably understood the request, but he was not satisfied as to the propriety of granting it. He looked at his companions, exchanged a few words, when they came up and debated the matter.
“I won’t run away--I’ll promise you dat--feller treats me kind, I’ll do de same wid him--gib you my word ob honor.”
They seemed disposed to grant his desire, but before doing so, began a search to assure themselves that he had not any weapons of offense about him. Jim sat motionless, except when he assisted them as much as possible, never once thinking of the gold until he heard the two pieces jingle together in his pocket. Instantly he started up in terror.
“I hain’t got noffin dere--dat am sartin’--no use ob feelin’ dat pocket.”
But a coppery-hued hand was already inserted, and the next instant it drew out the two yellow pieces.
“Dem ain’t mine,” added Jim, and then, unwilling to tell an untruth, he added, “dey ain’t, sartin--’cause I’ve got to divide wid de rest.”