“You’ll have ter have something ter do with me,” came grimly from the lips of the man. “My name’s Enos Dugan, an’ people what know me say I’m a bad article to fool with. I want ter buy that gun, an’ I made ye ther fust offer fer it.”
“You are interrupting us, sir!” said Frank Merriwell, calmly. “He wishes to trade for this rifle I have here.”
“Don’t ye do it, greenie,” said Dugan. “That’s a cheap rifle, an’ this chap is tryin’ ter stick ye. I’ll give ye fifty dollars in clean money fer your gun.”
A wave of anger ran over Merriwell, while something like a smothered growl burst from Browning, who seemed ready to go for the insolent intruder.
“Mr. Dugan,” said Frank, his words coming sharp and clear, “you have no right to say I am trying to stick him, for I have not even made him an offer.”
“Haw!” blurted the man, giving Merriwell a contemptuous look. “I’ll say w’at I dern please! I’m goin’ ter have that rifle, or I’ll break that chap’s neck.”
“And you are trying to scare him into selling it to you! That is a reprehensible thing for a big ruffian like you!”
Dugan started.
“Hey?” he roared. “Did you call me a ruffian?”
“Yes; for you have shown yourself all of that.”