“You think you’re so almighty wise; I don’t need you to tell me when it’s fit to be out.”
Bruce did not answer, but his black eyes began to shine. Slim noticed it with seeming satisfaction, and went on:
“I saw them pet sheep of yourn comin’ down. Did you give ’em salt?”
Bruce hesitated.
“Yes, Slim, I did. I suppose I shouldn’t have done it, but the poor little devils——”
“And I’m to go without! Who the —— do you think you are to give away my salt?”
“Your salt——” Bruce began savagely, then stopped. “Look here, Slim!” His deep voice had an appealing note. “It wasn’t right when there was so little, I’ll admit that, but what’s the use of being so onery? I wouldn’t have made a fuss if you had done the same thing. Let’s try and get along peaceable the few days we’ll be cooped up in here, and when the storm lets up I’ll pull out. I should have gone before. But I don’t want to wrangle and quarrel with you, Slim; honest I don’t.”
“You bet you don’t!” Slim answered, with ugly significance.
Bruce’s strong, brown fingers tightened as he leaned against the window casement with folded arms. His silence seemed to madden Slim.
“You bet you don’t!” he reiterated, and added in shrill venom: “I might ’a’ knowd how ’twould be when I throwed in with a mucker like you.”