"It's all right, Pochette; let her howl.

We're going to cross, just the same.
It isn't likely you'll have to make the trip for any body else to-day." I didn't mean to, but I looked over toward King, and caught the glint of his unfriendly eyes upon me.

Also, the corners of his mouth hunched up for a second in what looked like a sneer.

But the Lord knows I wasn't casting any aspersions on _his_ nerve.
He must have taken it that way, though; for he went out when we did and hooked up, and when we drove down to where the little old scow they called a ferry was bobbing like a decoy-duck in the water, he was just behind us with his team.

Pochette looked at him, and at us, and at the river; and his meager little face with its pointed beard looked like a perturbed gnome--if you ever saw one.
"The leetle boat, she not stand for ze beeg load.