He stared at me.
“Ike Dawlin is East on a gold-brick game, and you know it,” I said.
“East—East—you plug-hat stiff! I’ll show you whether he’s East or not!”
“He is East along with ‘Peacock’ Pratt.”
My cocksureness made him furious.
“By the jumped-up jeesicks, don’t you suppose I know when Ike Dawlin lands back in the Potlatch country?”
“I’ll have to see him to believe it. Yes, or ‘Peacock’ Pratt!”
“You follow along on my heels and you’ll see both of ’em all right! Next you’ll claim to be a friend of theirs, eh?”
“Oh no! If I really thought Ike Dawlin was in the Potlatch instead of back East I wouldn’t be headed this way. There’s one special man I wouldn’t want to meet up with.”
Mr. Dragg bounced up and down on the seat in his rage. I had prodded him as hard as I could in order to make sure that he knew what he was talking about.