Chick was not angry nor resentful. He felt that he had done his duty by a new recruit. If his advice was not acceptable it was not his fault.
“Excuse me!” he said. “I didn’t have no intention o’ buttin’ in. I just wanted you to know what I know about cleanin’ rifle bar’ls. I al’ays try to help the rookies out, best I kin.”
Then, indeed, Ben’s wrath blazed up. To be called a “rookie” by this inconsequential camp-trotter was more than he could stand. He jumped to his feet and brought the butt of his rifle to the floor with a crash.
“You leave this room!” he shouted. “You’ve no business here! You’re a meddler and a fool!”
Chick stood staring at the angry youth in amazement. He could not understand why his well-intentioned advice should have brought forth such a burst of wrath. Still less could he understand why he should be ordered to leave a room in which, so far as he knew, he had been welcome as a friend and helper for the last three years. Nor could Halpert McCormack understand it. Or, if he did dimly understand the cause of Barriscale’s wrath he could have no sympathy with him in his angry outburst. Up to this moment he had been a silent witness to the affair. Now he felt that it was just to Chick, and due to his own self-respect, that he should take a hand in it.
“You don’t have to go, Chick,” he said quietly. “I’ve as much authority here as Barriscale has, and I tell you to stay.”
Ben’s face, already flushed with anger, turned scarlet now. For a moment he could not find words with which to express his indignation. But when he did speak it was apparent that the current of his wrath had changed and was setting violently toward Hal.
“What business is it of yours,” he demanded, “what orders I give to this intermeddling runt?”
“It’s my business,” replied Hal, “because you’ve no right to give such orders. Besides, Chick wasn’t intermeddling; he intended to do you a favor.”