"Confound you!" said Smithers to Harold, "will you do what I told you?"
"What?" asked Harold, with the same provoking calmness.
"Don't ask me questions, when you know very well what I mean. Go after your sister."
"Oh, she's all right. The robbers won't hurt her, and you know very well where she has gone."
Smithers was now in an ungovernable fury. His troubles and trials of late had not served to improve what was always a hasty temper, and to add to this he had given way to habits of drinking since quitting New York.
Even that morning he had indulged in sundry drams, which he had taken from a flask he carried in his pocket.
"If you don't do what I tell you, by thunder! I'll make you!" he cried.
Invitingly near him, at the rear of the wagon, were his pistols. He seized one and pointed it at Harold.
"Now, you young whelp!" he almost screamed, so beside himself was he with excitement, "will you obey me?"
"I'm all hunk," replied Harold, thinking his father was only trying to frighten him.