“Not a bit of it. I want you, Rebstock,” explained Scott without in the least raising his voice.
Rebstock’s throaty tones seemed to contract into a wheeze. “What do you want me for?” he asked, looking nervously toward the other end of the car. As he did so, a man wearing a shirt and new overalls rose and started for the door. The instinct of Scott’s suspicion fastened itself on the man trying to leave the place as being Rebstock’s wanted companion.
Rising like a flash, he covered the second man with his pistol. “Hold on!” he exclaimed, pointing at him with his left hand. “Come over here!”
The man in overalls turned a calm face that showed nothing more than conscious innocence. But Scott was looking at his feet. His worn shoes were crusted heavily with alkali mud. “What do you want with me?” snarled the man halted at the door.
“I want you,” said Scott, “for burning Point of Rocks station night before last. Here, partner,” he continued, speaking to the waiter. “I’ll pay for these two breakfasts; search that man for me,” he continued, pointing to the man in the overalls.
“Search him yourself,” returned the waiter stolidly. Scott turned like a wolf.
“What’s that?” Another expression stole over his good-natured face. Holding his revolver to cover any one that resisted, he turned his accusing finger upon the insolent waiter. “You will talk to me, will you?” he demanded sharply. “Do as I tell you instantly, or I’ll drive you out of camp and burn your shack to the ground. When I talk to you, General Jack Casement talks, and this railroad company talks. Search that man!”
Before the last word had passed his lips the waiter jumped over the counter and began turning the pockets of the man in the new overalls inside out. The fellow kept a good face even after a bunch of stolen railroad tickets were discovered in one pocket. “A man gave them to me last night to keep for him,” he answered evenly.