“Four thousand, two hundred dollars” he replied boastfully, glancing around at his neighbors.
“Whew!” uttered Haig, between pursed lips. Then to Larkin: “You were hard pressed, weren’t you? But never mind, boys, I’ll do better than I promised––and charge it up to Cousin Seth.”
Another laugh flickered around the crowd. It was evident that there was no great objection to seeing Huntington baited.
“My name’s Huntington!” he snorted. “What’s this damned cousin business, anyhow?”
Haig raised his eyebrows.
“Does it annoy you?” he asked, in a tone of exaggerated politeness.
Huntington merely glared. He was one of those self-made wits who enjoy their own jokes immensely but grumble at plucking barbed shafts out of their own skins. He began to wish for the thunderbolt.
“But it’s your own fault, you know,” Haig added.
“What in hell are you talking about?” Huntington growled.
“I’m talking about your last visit to my ranch.”