"Git," he roared, "or I'll knock out ye'r brains, providin' ye've got any."
"Go ahead, then," was the quiet reply.
"What! ain't ye afraid?" Abner asked.
"Afraid of what?"
"That I'll kill ye."
"H'm, I wish you would. It would save me from doing it myself. So hurry up."
Abner's eyes bulged with amazement, and he slowly lowered his gun.
"Say, ye'r not luney, are ye?" he queried.
"Do you think I am?"
"Well, there must be somethin' wrong with a chap who wants to be killed, that's all."