“When a man addresses me as I have addressed you,” said Inwood, “I quietly leave his company, and have nothing more to do with him.”
“Dat so,” added Jim, beginning to lose all patience at the impudence of their visitor. “If you know what’s best for yourself you’ll cl’ar out.”
Mr. Muffin smoked in silence a few moments longer, and then rose to his feet. Glaring first at Inwood, and then at Jim, he shook his fist at each, and said:
“I’ll go, but you’ll hear from me before long. You haven’t seen the last of me.”
And the next moment he strode off in the darkness.
The miners waited until they were sure of being alone, when George said:
“I am sorry we saw anything of that man—he has had his eyes on our gold, and has made up his mind to have it.”
“Yes; I’m sorry you told him about it,” gravely remarked Jim.
“I think you were the first to give him the hint.”