"Do you mean to insinuate that I am a thief?" cried Dike Powell.
"You are none too good for it. I have not forgotten how you used to sneak around my office in New York after information concerning my Western mining claims."
"You're getting mighty sharp, Arbuckle."
"I hope I am. I used to feel queer in my head at times, but—but—I think I am growing better of that."
As he spoke Mortimer Arbuckle drew his white hand across his forehead.
The attack and the adventure on the river had been fearful, but it really looked as if they were going to prove of benefit to him. His eyes were brighter than they had been for many a day. Pawnee Brown noticed, too, that his manner of talking was more direct than he usually employed.
"I hope for the boy's sake his mind is clearing," he thought.
"I think you are growing more queer—to accuse me," said Dike Powell. "I never harmed you."
"I know better. While I was on my back I thought it all over. Dike Powell, you are a villain, and if ever I get the chance I'll turn you over to the police. You have followed me to the West, and for no good purpose. I will unmask you."
"Will you? Not much!"