y have
gone to his last long sleep at the bottom of that boiling river rather
than accept the assistance of an enemy.

The next couple of hours was a season of aching back, and sloppy feet, and
grunting, and swearing that I don't much care about remembering in detail.
The wind blew till the tears ran down our cheeks. The sand stuck and
clogged every move we made till I used to dream of it afterward. If you
think it was just a simple little job, taking that rig to pieces and
packing it to dry land on our backs, just give another guess. And if you
think we were any of us in a mood to look at it as a joke, you're miles
off the track.

Pochette helped us like a little man--he had to, or we'd have done him up
right there. Old King sat on the ferry-rail and smoked, and watched us
break our backs sardonically--I did think I had that last word in the
wrong place; but I think not. We did break our backs sardonically, and he
watched us in the same fashion; so the word stands as she is.

When the last load was safe on the bank, I went back to the boat. It
seemed a low-down way to leave a man, and now he knew I wasn't fishing for
help, I didn't mind speaking to the old reprobate. So I went up and faced
him, still sitting on the ferry-rail, and still smoking.

"Mr. King," I said politely as I could, "we're all right now, and, if you
like, we'll help you off. It won't take long if we all get to work."

He took two long puffs, and pressed the tobacco down in his pipe. "You go
to hell," he advised me for the second time. "When I want any help from
you or your tribe, I'll let yuh know."

It took me just one second to backslide from my politeness. "Go to the
devil, then!" I snapped. "I hope you have to stay on the damn' bar a
week." Then I went plucking back through the sand that almost pulled the
shoes off my feet every step, kicking myself for many kinds of a fool.
Lord, but I was mad!

Pochette went back to the boat and old King, after nearly getting kicked
into the river for hinting that we ought to pay for the damage and trouble
we had caused him. Frosty and I weren't in any frame of mind for such a
hold-up, and it didn't take him long to find it out.

The bank there was so steep that we had to pack my trunk and what other
truck had been brought out from Osage, up to the top by hand. That was
another temper-sweetening job. Then we put the wagon together, hitched on
the horses, and they managed to get to the top with it, by a