“You alone?”
Duncan nodded.
“Where’s your new boss?” sarcastically inquired Doubler. “Ain’t you scared he’ll git lost—runnin’ around alone without anyone to look after him?”
“I ain’t his keeper,” returned Duncan shortly.
Doubler laughed unbelievingly. “You was puttin’ in a heap of your time bein’ his keeper, the last I saw of you,” he declared coldly.
“Mebbe I was. We’ve had a falling out.” The venom in Duncan’s voice was not at all pretended. “He’s double crossed me.”
“Double crossed you?” There was disbelief and suspicion in Doubter’s laugh. “How’s he done that? I reckoned you was too smart for anyone to do that to you?” The sarcasm in this last brought a dark red into Duncan’s face, but he successfully concealed his resentment and smiled.
“That’s all right,” he said; “I’ve got more than that coming from you. I’m telling you about what he done to me if you ain’t got any objections to me getting off my horse.”
“Tell me from where you are.” In spite of the coldness in the nester’s voice there was interest in his eyes. “Mebbe you an’ him have had a fallin’ out, but I ain’t takin’ any chances on you bein’ my friend—not a durned chance.”
“That’s right. I don’t blame you for not wanting to take a chance, and I’m not pretending to be your friend. And I sure ain’t any friendly to Langford. He’s double crossed me, but I ain’t telling how he done it—that’s between him and me. But I want to tell you something that will interest you a whole lot. It’s about some guy which is trying to double cross you. To prove that I ain’t thinking to plug you when you ain’t looking I’m leaving my gun here.” He drew out his six-shooter and stuck it behind his slicker, dismounted, and threw the reins over the pony’s head.