The hat was lying on the floor—to one side, where it had fallen from Johnnie's head when Barber had thrown the boy off. Now the latter went to pick it up, and hold it at his side. Then, standing straight, his sober eyes on the longshoreman, he waited.
"Where'd y' git 'em?" questioned Barber. He slammed the books on the table.
The big-girl hands worked convulsively with the hat for a moment. Then, "The suit was—was give t' me," Johnnie faltered.
"Gi-i-ive?" echoed Big Tom, as if this were his first knowledge of a great and heinous crime.
"Think of it!" shrilled Cis. "Johnnie's got a friend that's willing to spend a few dollars on him! Isn't that a shame!"
Barber did not look at her; did not seem to know that she was talking. "Who give it?" he persisted.
"It—it was One-Eye," said Johnnie.
"Oh, was it!" exclaimed the longshoreman. His tone implied that in all good time he would reckon with the Westerner.
"Yes, One-Eye!" cried Cis. "So you can take your temper out on him! Only you better look out! One-Eye's a man—not just a kid! And cowboys carry pistols, too! So you better think twice before you go at him! You'll be safer to stick to abusing children!—Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"
While he was waiting for silence, Barber fell to examining the scout uniform, article by article—the hat, the coat, the trousers, the leggings, the shoes, his look full of disgust, and fairly withering. When he was done, he sank leisurely into the morris chair, a big hand on each knee, and the flat back of his head rested against the old soiled cushion. And now he concentrated on Johnnie's countenance. "So Mister One-Eye fitted y' out," he resumed, and his mouth lifted at one corner, showing a brown, fanglike tooth worn by his pipe stem.