"Years ago."
Suddenly he lowered the cup so forcefully that half the liquor in it was
spilled over the table. He thrust his huge shoulders and red face toward
David, and in an instant there was a snarl on his thick lips.
"Hauck said she didn't," he growled. "What do you think of that,
Mac?--said she didn't belong to me any more, an' I'd have to pay for her
keep! Gawd, I did. I gave him a lot of gold!"
"You were a fool," said David, trying to choke back his eagerness. "A
fool!"
"I should have killed him, shouldn't I, Mac--killed him an' _took_ her?"
cried Brokaw huskily, his passion rising as he knotted his huge fists on
the table. "Killed him like you killed the Breed for that long-haired
she-devil over at Copper Cliff!"
"I--don't--know," said David, slowly, praying that he might not say the
wrong thing now. "I don't know what claim you had on her, Brokaw. If I
knew...."
He waited. Brokaw did not seem altogether like a drunken man now, and
for a moment he feared that discovery had come. He leaned over the
table. The watery film seemed to drop from his eyes for an instant and
his teeth gleamed wolfishly. David was glad the lamp chimney was black
with soot, and that the rim of his hat shadowed his face, for it seemed
to him that Brokaw's vision had grown suddenly better.
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