Ump! him a-wrigglin' in that chair you're settin' in
and tryin' to fix up some way to skin you! Don't tell me! I know blame'
well what he was tryin' to do."
Blount listened and was interested, not so much in the bit of gossip as
in the big, red-faced ranchman, who so evidently had a grudge to pay
off.
"I am not likely to have any dealings with Mr. Hathaway," he rejoined.
"And I must do him the bare justice of saying that he wasn't trying to
sell me anything. The shoe was on the other foot. He seemed to be afraid
he was in danger of losing out, and he was asking my advice."
"S.P. Hathaway lose out? Not on your life, my young friend! You say he
was askin' for advice? You've done stirred up my curiosity a whole heap,
and I reckon you'll have to tell me who you are before it'll ca'm down
again."
Blount laughed. "Mr. Hathaway thinks I am a special agent for the
Government, travelling on business for the Forest Service."
"The hell he does!" exploded the big man. Then he reached over and laid
a swollen finger on Blount's knee. "Say, boy, before you or him ever
gets off this train--Sufferin' Moses! what was that?"
The break came upon a thunderous crash transmitting itself from car to
car, and the long, heavy train came to a juggling stop. The ranchman
sprang to his feet with an alacrity surprising in so huge a body and
ducked to look out of the open window.
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