I'd ask you to stay, Eli, and I'd like to have you, but you don't like me and you'd better go on." "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.