"It don't sound reasonable to me," grumbled Enos Quibb. "One of you two parties is lyin'—an' lyin' like all git aout! I ain't goin' ter be fooled. I'm too smart a man for that. None of you schoolboys can bamboozle me." His chest swelled until there was danger of his shirt losing its buttons.
"We wouldn't think of such a thing," declared Kingdon.
"Huh? Well, I tell ye I know those other fellers are all right. I saw their permit. I'll give you fellers till mornin', when I come back along from Collings P'int. No longer! Ye hear me?"
"Thank you, Mr. Squibb," said Rex, meekly.
"Quibb!" snarled the constable.
"Certainly. Fribb; thank you. But I know you'll think differently about it when you've had a good sleep."
Enos turned away. He was fumbling a cigarette that had evidently been given him at the other camp. Now he lit it, puffed it importantly, and scrambled down to his boat, and went aboard.
"Why be such a dunce, Rex?" demanded Red, tartly. "Haven't you strung the man along far enough? Show him your letter from the Manatee Company."
"Yes," Midkiff echoed. "Why keep up a poor joke?"
"What are you trying to do, King?" demanded Cloudman.