"That's yours, isn't it?"
Turkey picked up the knife, surprise in his face.
"You ought to know it."
"I do know it."
Turkey shrugged his shoulders. "All right. Thanks. Say whatever you have to say, and don't stall."
"I can say that in a few words," Angus returned. "It is not because you are my brother, but only for Jean's sake that I keep my hands off you. Do you get that?"
"I can tell you another reason," Turkey retorted, his young face hardening, "which is that I won't let you put your hands on me. You'll get hurt if you try it. Now go on."
"I want the names of the men who were with you."
"What men? With me when?"
"You know mighty well," Angus accused him.