There are men, sir, who violate the laws of the Most High by living with Indian women--squaw men, sir, as they are called." Dunn rose with a face livid with weakness and passion.

"Who dares say that?
They are a d--d sight better than sneaking Northern Abolitionists, who married their daughters to buck niggers like--" But a spasm of pain withheld this Parthian shot at the politics of his two companions, and he sank back helplessly in his chair.
An awkward silence ensued.

The three men looked at each other in embarrassment and confusion.

Dunn felt that he had given way to a gratuitous passion; Wynn had a vague presentiment that he had said something that imperiled his daughter's prospects; and Brace was divided between an angry retort and the secret purpose already alluded to.
"It's all the blasted heat," said Dunn, with a forced smile, pushing away the whisky which Wynn had ostentatiously placed before him.
"Of course," said Wynn hastily; "only it's a pity Nellie ain't here to give you her smelling-salts.

She ought to be back now," he added, no longer mindful of Brace's presence; "the coach is over-due now, though I reckon the heat made Yuba Bill take it easy at the up grade." "If you mean the coach from Indian Spring," said Brace quietly, "it's in already; but Miss Nellie didn't come on it." "May be she got out at the Crossing," said Wynn cheerfully; "she sometimes does." "She didn't take the coach at Indian Spring," returned Brace, "because I saw it leave, and passed it on Buckskin ten minutes ago, coming up the hills." "She's stopped over at Burnham's," said Wynn reflectively.