"Wal, I jist don't know, Cap," he said cautiously, continuing to eat as
he talked, "as I'm much o' enything in this yere row. First ther durned
gray-backs they come snoopin' up yere, an' run off all my horgs; then
ther blame blue-bellies come 'long an' cut down every lick o' my corn
fodder, so thet I'll be cussed if I ain't 'bout ready ter fight either
side. Anyhow I ain't did no fightin' yit worth talkin' 'bout, fer
Mariar is pow'ful feared I'd git hurt."

Maria regarded him scornfully.

"Hiding out, I suppose?"

"Wal, 'tain't very healthful fer us ter be stayin' et hum much o' ther
time, long with that thar Red Lowrie, an' Jim Hale, an' the rest o'
thet cattle 'round yere."

"Guerillas pretty thick now in the mountains?"

He glanced up quickly, his shrewd gray eyes on my face, and Maria
turned about as she stood beside the fireplace.

"Wal, I dunno; I heerd as they wus doin' somethin' down by ther brick
church, but thar 's no great shakes of 'em jist 'round yere. I reckon
as how they knows 'nough ter keep 'way from Jed Bungay--I'd pitch 'em
'far as ever peasant pitched a bar.'"

"You have no fear of them, then?"

"Whut, me?" The little man sat bolt upright, and glared fiercely across