"Mebbe I will, man," and Pete's eyes gleamed with a light which spoke danger. "At present the matter lies atween you an' the lassie, so I leave the b'ys here to jedge which to believe. But as we are now acquainted, I'd like to ax ye another question."
"Spit it out, then."
"Haven't I seed ye afore, Bill Pritchen?"
"H— if I know."
"But ye do know. Ye know very well that I met ye on the trail in 'Dead Man's Land,' last Fall."
"You must have been dreaming then."
"No, I wasn't a-dreamin' an' ye know I wasn't."
"Well, suppose you did meet me, what of it?"
"I'll tell ye what I want," and Pete moved nearer. "I want to know what's become of that fine young chap what was out with ye, the lad what had the fiddle?"
"How do I know? I can't keep track of every idiot who happens to meet me on the trail and travels along with me for a time."