"I don't want the deer's meat," said Eli in sullen resentment.

"You ain't got any ca'tridges, and you can't shoot any fresh meat,"
insisted Indian Jake, adding with a grin: "She'll go good. Take un
along, I got plenty. It's just a little surprise present for you bein'
so kind as not to shoot me."

Eli, doubtless deciding that he had better take what he could get,
though a bit of venison was small compensation for a silver fox,
accepted the meat. Indian Jake accompanied him to the boat, and as he
dropped down the river he could see Indian Jake still on the bank
watching him until he turned a bend.

Without cartridges for his rifle, Eli felt himself as helpless as a
wolf without teeth or a cat without claws. He was subdued and humbled.
He had had Indian Jake completely in his power, and through delay in
taking prompt advantage of his position, had permitted the half-breed
to capture and disarm him.

The thought increased his anger toward Indian Jake. He had no doubt
the man had the silver fox in his possession. If there had been any
doubt in the first instance that Indian Jake was guilty, and Eli had
never admitted that there was doubt, he was now entirely satisfied of
the half-breed's guilt. Indian Jake, indeed, had quite boldly stated
that he "might" have it, and Eli accepted this as an admission that he
_did_ have it.

"There'll be no use getting more ca'tridges and goin' back," Eli
mused. "He's had a warnin' and he'll not bide in that camp another
day. He'll flee the country."