They rode for some hours across a flat, joyless country without either man making a move, but as the train neared Gunsight Rimrock rose up and went forward to where L. W. sat.
"Well, what're you all bowed up about?" he enquired bluffly. "Has your girl gone back on you, or what?"
"Go on away!" answered L. W. dangerously, "I don't want to talk to you, you thief!"
"Oh, that's what's the matter with you—you're thinking about the money, eh? Well, you always did hate to lose."
An insulting epithet burst from L. W.'s set lips, but Rimrock let it pass.
"Oh, that's all right," he said. "Never mind my feelings. Say, how much do you figure I owe you?"
"You don't owe me nothing!" cried L. W. half-rising. "You stole from me, you scoundrel—I can put you in the Pen for this!"
"Aw, you wouldn't do that," answered Rimrock easily. "I know you too well for that."
"Say, you go away," panted L. W. in a frenzy, "or I'll throw you out of this car."
"No you won't either," said Rimrock truculently. "You'll have to eat some more beans before you can put me on my back."