“Did you see the notice I had Dan Marcy leave?”
“I did; but that counts for nothing with me.”
“I’ll have the law on ye!”
“Perhaps you will, and perhaps you won’t, Hiram.”
“Don’t Hiram me, Joel Runnell. I don’t put myself on a level with a vagabond o’ a game stealer like you. If——”
“Hold on there, Skeetles. I am no game stealer, and if you say so——” The old hunter had leaped up, gun in hand.
“Don’t—don’t ye shoot me!” howled the real estate dealer.
“Then don’t say such things again. Every bit of game I bring in I come by honestly.”
“Where are those Westmore chaps?” questioned Hiram Skeetles, deeming it best to shift the subject.
“They have gone out to bring in some game we shot yesterday.”