“Why, man,” said Amos, “I’m not Wint’s boss.”
“You elected him.”
“You elected him as much as me, Kite. And I heard how he called you a buzzard. If he calls you a buzzard, what do you think he’d call me?”
“I hold no grudge for that,” Kite explained. “He was drunk. Fact remains, he’s friendly with you. I ask you, I’m asking you flatly: Did you prompt him to do this, or tell him to, or advise him to in any way?”
“Well,” said Amos, “if you ask me, I’ll say: No.”
Kite slapped his knee. “I knew it,” he exclaimed.
“Who says I did?” Amos asked. “Wint say I did?”
“No. He says you didn’t. Chase and Routt claim you did it.”
“Chase? And Jack Routt? Why, now, I take that unkind,” Amos protested, in a hurt voice, and Kite realized that he had blundered, and hurried past the danger point.
“Well, if you didn’t advise Wint to do this, what are you going to do now? Back him in his fight?”