"Then clear out. You shall never be anything to me till you surrender the stolen money."
"Bah! it ain't yours! You're a bad, wicked man, and you got it wickedly, and get all your wealth wickedly, and the more you get the wickeder you get. Get out! I'd cut my head off, silly's I am, before I'd give you up the money."
"Curses on your mulishness!"
"Ha! ha! I know you cherish the most fatherly regard for me. If it wasn't for the hope that I will some day restore you your lost ten thousand you'd had me drowned months ago. By the way, old man, what have you done with my feller?"
"Your fellow?"
"Yes—Hal Hartly."
"How should I know anything about him?"
"Who should know better? Oh! you wicked monster!"
"Take care, girl!"
"No, I won't take care!" and her eyes flashed in defiance of his anger. "I ain't a bit afraid of you, because I can outrun any dog in the town. I know what's become of Hal. Your tools took him out and chucked him under. But, ha! ha! he's all right!"