“We have been examining your stock-book,” said Dick. “It’s badly kept.”
The fellow gave him a quick glance. “Mr. Fuller knows I’m not smart at figuring, and if you want the books neat, you’ll have to get me a better clerk. Anyhow, I’ve my own tally and allow I can tell you what stuff I get and where it goes.”
“That is satisfactory. Look at this list and tell me where the cement you’re short of has gone.”
“Into the mixing shed, I guess,” said the other with a half-defiant frown.
“Then it didn’t come out. We haven’t got the concrete at the dam. Are there any full bags not accounted for in the shed?”
“No, sir. You ought to know the bags are skipped right into the tank as the mill grinds up the mush.”
“Very well. Perhaps you’d better consult your private tally and see if it throws any light upon the matter.”
The man took out a note-book and while he studied it Bethune asked, “Will you let me have the book?”
“I guess not,” said the other, who shut the book with a snap, and then turned and confronted Dick.
“I want to know why you’re getting after me!”