Payne finished his piece of venison and wiped his fingers.
"Garman," said he, "who are you? What are you? What are you butting in for?"
Garman's smoking paused for a moment and his fat, rosy countenance was suffused with a darker red.
"That was a bad break, Payne. I don't like it."
"I didn't think you would. I see you don't like the idea of my being here at all."
"That's right."
"In fact, you don't like the idea of anybody's coming up here and seeing this country, and you've taken quite elaborate precautions against anybody's doing so. I'll make a guess that there'll be trouble for somebody if you ever find out how we got in."
"Don't you trouble about that, Payne; you worry about how you're going to get out."
Payne paid no attention to this veiled threat, and continued:
"Also, I'll make a guess that you're one of the real big men in the Prairie Highlands Land Company, which sold me a lot of water for farm land."