But Adams was pulled panting back into his chair.
“Did you hear what he said?” he demanded of those about him. “Did you hear what he said? He as good as admitted he tried to do fer me that night at Jones Run bridge!”
But they weren’t listening to him; they were listening to Bassett, who, fairly livid with rage, had turned back to Simpson.
“Yes,” he shouted, “goody-goody sneaks like you an’ Adams—standin’ there lettin’ on you don’t know who it was put them poor devils up to firin’ the stock-yards!”
“I’ve already asked you to tell me,” repeated Simpson, quietly.
“It was two members of this lodge!” yelled Bassett, quite beside himself. “It was two members of this lodge what give the whiskey an’ the cash, an’ they knowed what they was doin’, too!”
The place was in an uproar; angry voices demanded the names of the offending members, denials were shouted across the room, fists were shaken; but the chairman finally succeeded in beating down the din until Simpson’s voice could be heard again. His face was flushed and there was a dangerous light in his eyes as he turned to Bassett, who had subsided into his seat again.
“Mr. Bassett,” he began, “you have said too much not to say more. I demand the names of those two men.”
But Bassett had already said more than he had intended to say, and heartily regretted his hasty tongue.
“I ain’t no tale-bearer,” he protested. “I know what I know; but it don’t go no furder.”