yais!"

He replaced his pipe and commenced again to smoke with an expression
of weary indifference.

"I'm not that sort," said Mills. "I'm open to admit I didn't quite
take to you--at first. I can't say fairer than that. But tell me what
you done to rile the chaps. Did you kill a bloke, or what?"

"Jone Mills," said the Frenchman "Jone Mills shoot the Intendente at
Mandega's. Kill 'im dead. Dead as pork. They don' chase Jone Mills.
They don' wan' to shoot Jone Mills. No. Frenchy--po' ol' Frenchy--'e
shoot a man in Macequece. Shoot 'im dead. Dead as pork. Then they
all coom after 'im. Wan' to shoot 'im. An' po' ol' Frenchy, 'e stop
to pull Jone Mills out of the river. 'E save Jone Mills. Jone squeak
an' say, 'Shoot me quick befo' I choke.' But Frenchy stop an' pull
'im out. Yais. An' then they shoot Frenchy. Yais!" He blew a huge
volume of smoke and lay back serenely.

"Look 'ere, Frenchy," cried Mills, stretching his hand across the
table, "I'm in this. They won't catch you here, old son. Savvy?
There's my hand for you."

"Eh?"

"There's my hand, I'm tellin' you. Shake hands, old son. You may be a
hard case, but you did save my life, and it's up to me to see you
through. We'll be able to call quits then."

The Frenchman rose with a serious face, and the two shook hands over