Mart granted. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
When she told him he youthfully decided to turn directly back and punish Blacky Silk, but the girl pleaded with him to ride on. He was envious of his sister in actually having had the experience of “throwing down” on a man. Mart had packed a six for three years, and had never had the opportunity to throw down on anything more threatening than a coyote. He agreed to spare Blacky when she assured him that nothing serious had occurred; then, manlike, he began to scold her for getting herself into such a predicament.
Both talked at once on the various subjects uppermost in their minds, and as Mart was hungry and mannishly ill-humored accordingly, they verged upon a quarrel.
“Why’d you tag me?” he burst out at last.
“Why did you treat me as you did, then?”
“Why’d you try to swipe the evidence?”
“I didn’t.”
“You did! You put ’er in er pocket!”
“I just wanted to examine it Mart.”
“Didn’t you? Course you did! You tried to swipe ’er. I guess I could have you sent up for that. And I oughta do it, too, I guess. If you wasn’t my own sister——”