Darry jumped to his feet, advancing upon Bert Dodge, who retreated a couple of steps.
"Dodge," Dave began, "you want to put a halter on your tongue. You can't come here to this camp and call too many names. You don't amount to much, of course, and nothing that you know how to say should be treated very seriously. It would be hard for a rascal like yourself to be really insulting to anyone possessed of the average degree of honor. But we came up here for pleasure and rest. Both your face and your voice—-not particularly your words—-are disturbing. If those are your tires, kindly take them and get out of camp!"
"You fellows will carry the tires back to the road, and you'll put them on the wheels," retorted Dodge hoarsely.
"As Dick has already told you, we'll do nothing of the sort," Dave flashed back at him. "All we want, Dodge, is for you to get out of this camp. Incidentally, if you want the tires, we shall offer no objections to your taking them with you."
"What have you to say to that?" demanded Bert hotly, turning to the man with the stubby red mustache.
"It seems to me like good judgment," replied the stranger.
"You say that?" screamed Bert, going into a blind passion. "Is that what we brought you here for?"
"I don't really know what you did bring me here for," replied the stranger. "All I know is that you stopped me, when I was driving past with my load of produce for the Gridley markets, and you offered me two dollars to come down here and not say much unless I was spoken to. I didn't come until you paid me the money. It was good pay, and I'll stay here an hour longer if you really think I owe you that much time."
"You're not a constable, or a sheriff's officer, are you, sir?" asked Dick pleasantly.
"Not unless someone made me one when I wasn't looking," replied the stranger, with a shrewd smile.