You are a
bad fellow, Chub--a worse fellow than I thought you. As an idiot, I
fancied you might be honest and grateful."
"You're bad yourself, Mr. Guy. You cursed Chub, and you cursed Chub's
mother; and your man burnt down Chub's house, and you wanted to shoot
Chub on the tree."
"But I didn't shoot, Chub; and I kept the men from shooting you when you
ran away from the cave."
"You can't shoot now," answered the idiot, with an exulting chuckle;
"and they'll keep you in the ropes, Mr. Guy; they've got you on your
back, Mr. Guy; and I'm going to laugh at you all the way as you go. Ho!
ho! ho! See if I don't laugh, till I scares away all your white owls
from the roost."
The outlaw looked steadily in the face of the wretched urchin, with a
curious interest, as he half murmured to himself:--
"And that I should fall a victim to such a thing as this! The only
creature, perhaps, whom I spared or pitied--so wretched, yet so
ungrateful. But there is an instinct in it. It is surely in consequence
of a law of nature.
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