"A big ol' dumb ox." Morisson shook his shaggy head.  "Thaz all ah am, gittin' shot at, beat up, kicked 'round.  Iz jus' like tha' jerk Smokes said, I'm a big dumb papa grizzly." He was sitting on one of the cots in the shack.

"Despite all your troubles, you have been very lucky," said Robinson.

"Lucky?!  I git shot ever' day an' in 'tween I get conked on m' noggin."

Robinson wrapped an impromptu bandage around the giant's side.  "Sergeant Crawford's bullet only creased the fleshy part of your side.  There is no rib damage or internal complications."

"Whazzat s'posed t' mean?"

"Your insides aren't hurt."

Morisson squinted down at his bare chest.  "Thaz good t' know," he said.  "Seems like all ya been doin' since we met up is patchin' me one way or 'tother."  Morisson got back into the faded shirt Robinson held out for him, then gingerly fastened up his overall straps.  "Lissen now, Robinson, I---I'm plumb sorry 'bout whut 'appened."

"I too am sorry you were injured, my friend."

"T'ain't whut ah mean an' y'know it," Morisson said.  "I mean 'bout how I sorta sold ya out to Crawford.  Never shoulda...."

"He is a very persuasive man.  What he told you no doubt sounded sensible at the time."

"Yup.  'E promised me I could git 'way free an' clear.  Tol' me nobody'd come after me no more. An' he tol' me I could take mah share o' th' gol' wi' me."  Morrison snorted.  "Tha' woulda been ree-el good, t' be free an' 'ave alla tha' money."

"You still have your life.  And at this moment you are as free as any man."

"T'ain' gonna las' long, I'm sure," the big man said.  "I shoulda' known Crawford wuz a'lyin' t'me, shoulda known 'e wanted tha' gol' all fer hisself.  Ah dunno, Robinson, I jus' cain't always get things clear in muh head.  People git a'talkin' t'me an' it confuses me all 'round."

"You always know what you feel."

"Yup," admitted Morisson.  "When ah turn't that rifle on ya I fel' bad."

"I know."

"Ah went 'head an' done it, though."

"We learn from all that happens to us."  Robinson moved towards the doorway. "The next time you must make a choice things will surely be different."

"Mebbe.  I dunno....See, Robinson, I ne'er had nobody wuz really m'friend before.  Nobody who called me 'is friend like  you done now.  Guess I dunno whut t'do 'bout it."

Robinson stood watching the darkness beyond.  "You must rest now, Mr. Morisson.  In a day or so you should be well enough.  We must then leave here and cross the mountains to the other side."

"Whaddya think he'll do?"

"Sergeant Crawford."

"Yeah, that shike-poke."

"I do not know.  He may be content merely with your gold."

"Dang 'im fer stealin' it," said Morisson.  "Mebbe, y'know, he'll come back an' try t' take us in again."

"That is also possible."

"Well, if he wuz t' take m' back t' that dang fort, I shore wouldn't keep m' mouth shut.  I'd tell all o' them soldier boys 'bout 'im stealin' that gol' o' mine.  So's he....." The giant stopped, eyes narrowing.  "He don't hafta take us back alive, does he?  I jus' thought o' that.  'Is job, it's easy t' bring us back, any ol' way he kin do it."

"Those who seek me would prefer me alive.  But they would be satisfied with my corpse."

"Th' only way 'e kin make sure we don't say nuttin'....it's t' kill us."   The big man's hands gripped the edge of the cot.

Robinson didn't reply.

"Ain't it?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he said at last.

The giant tried to rise, then thought better of it.  "He might a'be out that somewheres right now, a'sneakin' up on us."

"No, he is not nearby."

"How y'know tha'?"

Eyes on the moonlit forest beyond the clearing, Robinson said, "I simply do."

"E'en if'n yer right, that don't mean he won't make a try fer us later on," said Morisson.  "In a way, I wish he'd make another try fer us right soon."

"Why?"

"Way it is now, I always gotta worry 'bout 'im.  No matter whur I goe, what I'm a'doin'....I'm gonna be a'thinkin' is he still a'lookin' fer me?  Is he still a'doggin' m' trail?  Is today th' day he's a'gonna catch up t'me?"  So even if I wuz happy, why, there'd always be th' idea of Crawford spoilin' it."

"We all live that way, Mr. Morisson," said Robinson, still looking out at the night.  "No man knows how many his days will number, nor when death will catch up to him."

The big man's nostrils flared as he snorted.  "Ah'm not talkin' 'bout none o' yer O-ree-en-tal spook stuff," he told Robinson. He rubbed a blunt finger over his open palm. "Ah'm talkin' bout tha' flesh-an'-blood Crawford. Well, I'll fix 'is wagon if 'e comes back 'ere."

"How do you propose to do that?"

"Fix 'im once an' fer good.  Kill 'im stone col' daid."

Robinson shook his head. "I do not think you will do that."

"You gonna see."

"You rest now, my friend," said Robinson.  "I will watch."

Morisson stayed with his hands clutching the cot for several moments before stretching out.305Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxpnSYv43Xq