“What difference does that make about coming to my house, where you belong?” he demanded.
He had me there—backed into a corner! He had his pod-auger out, ready to use on me, just as I had apprehended—and so help me! I was not ready with a story.
“What is your business?”
Dignified reserve and a plug-hat would not serve to trig my uncle Deck!
It was necessary for me to dedare then and there what my business in Levant was. I had been clutching wildly into a lot of nebulous thoughts ever since waking, trying to get hold of something solid.
And I found out then, as I had experienced before, and discovered on many occasions later, that there was in me something which enabled me to leap an emergency barrier when the goad was sharp enough and the danger near.
“I’ve got to have dealings with a lot of men and I’d be a nuisance around your premises, Uncle Deck.”
“What dealings? No secret, is it?”
“Certainly not! I’m buying for a big syndicate. Buying standing timber.” I said that because I had already committed myself with Celene Kingsley and it came to me that I’d better have one story and stick to it.
“All right! Buy some of mine.”