“Well,” said Dick, as he came still nearer, “that little trip is indefinitely postponed.”
This declaration roused Bunk. He knew the brothers would interfere with him if they gained the chance, and now they were doing so, for of a surety the two were in accord.
“See yere, Dick, yo’ hain’t got nuffin to do wid dis; you ain’t my boss.”
“Do you want me to prove that I am; here, Harv, hold my gun for a minute while I show Bunk that I’m his boss.”
The words of revolt had roused the temper of the younger, who accepted the weapon from Dick’s hand, quite content that he should chastise the ungrateful lad.
But the dusky youth had no liking for a struggle of that nature. It would have been fun for the young athlete, figuratively speaking, to wipe the ground with him. Dick had demonstrated his ability in that direction more than once. He doubled his fists and stepped in front of Bunk.
“Put up your hands and we’ll settle the question in the next three minutes.”
“I doan’ want nuffin to do wid yo’,” growled the negro, edging to one side; “but I’d like to know if I hain’t de right to do as I blamed please.”
“No; for you haven’t the sense of a one-eyed owl with the pip. Why didn’t you ask permission of Mr. Hartley to go on this tomfool trip?”
“I didn’t hab de chance.”