“Well, and ain't it my horn now, Sam?”
“You bet you!”
“YES, sir!” Penrod went on with vigour. “It's my horn now whether it belonged to you or not, Roddy, because you SOLD it to me and I paid my good ole money for it. I guess a thing belongs to th`, person that paid their own money for it, doesn't it? I don't haf to give up my own propaty, even if you did come on over here and told us a big l—”
“I NEVER!” shouted Roddy. “It was my horn, too, and I didn't tell any such a thing!” He paused; then, reverting to his former manner, said stubbornly, “I got to have that horn back. I GOT to!”
“Why'n't you tell us what FOR, then?” Sam insisted.
Roddy's glance at this persecutor was one of anguish.
“I know my own biz'nuss!” he muttered.
And while Sam jeered, Roddy turned to Penrod desperately.
“You gimme that horn back! I got to have it.”
But Penrod followed Sam's lead.