“I say,” repeated Martin, “did you bounce him, or did he go without it?”
Without turning towards the younger man, Matlack remarked: “I was mistaken. That ain’t fat; it’s muscle.”
“You don’t mean to say,” exclaimed Martin, in astonishment, “that he bounced you out of that camp!”
“I don’t mean to say nothin’,” was the reply, “except what I do say; and what I say is that that ain’t fat; it’s muscle. When I make a mistake I don’t mind standin’ up and sayin’ so.”
Martin could not understand the situation. He knew Matlack to be a man of great courage and strength, and one who, if he should engage in a personal conflict, would not give up until he had done his very best. But the guide’s appearance gave no signs of any struggle. His clothes were in their usual order, and his countenance was quiet and composed.
“Look here,” cried Martin, “how did you find out all that about the bishop?”
Matlack turned on him with a grim smile. “Didn’t you tell me that day you was talkin’ to me about the boat that he was a tough sort of a fellow?”
“Yes, I did,” said the other.
“Well,” said Matlack, “how did you find that out?”
Martin laughed. “I shouldn’t wonder,” he said, “if we were about square. Well, if you will tell me how you found it out, I will tell you how I did.”