"I wanted to string Greenie," explained Dowley hoarsely, "but Overton had to go to work and spoil it all."
"The joke was in bad taste," observed Private Hyman quietly. "We don't want any work of that sort here, even for fun."
"What I marvel at," remarked Hal innocently, "is how you did the thing in such a smooth, light-fingered way, Dowley."
"Light fingered? You hound!" raged Dowley, his eyes blazing. "Do you mean that I did the trick with the skill of a crook?"
He placed himself squarely before the young soldier, crowding him back and glaring into Overton's eyes.
The other soldiers in the room found suddenly a new interest in the scene. Young Overton wasn't quarrelsome; he was the soul of good nature, in fact, but he knew how to fight when he had to do it.
"Stop walking on my feet," counseled Hal, giving Dowley a slight push that sent him backward a step.
"What did you mean?" insisted Dowley, who was working himself into a greater rage with every second.
"It's time to ask what you mean," retorted Hal.
"You called me a light-fingered crook, because I played a joke on Greenie," roared Dowley. "And I'm going to make you eat talk like that."