Ralph laughed.
The little man drew near, cringing. "Won't you put out the fire?" he whined. "In case any of them should come."
Ralph scattered the embers.
Stack needed no encouragement to make him speak. It came tumbling out; truth and lies, complaints and excuses all mixed. "My God! Doctor! What a terrible position I'm in!" he wailed. "I don't know which way to turn. I gave Mixer two hundred and fifty dollars to guide me through the country, and look at the way they treat me! You saw it! I have to wash the dishes, and wait on the half-breed! Me! with a college education! I'm in momentary terror of my life. I hired Mixer, thinking no wrong, and now I find him pursuing some murderous vengeance against you! If you could hear how he talks about you! Look what a position that puts me in—travelling with a gang of murderers! What must you think of me?"
Ralph listened to all this, smoking impassively. "What are you making this trip for?" he asked.
"Just to see the country," whined Stack. "Didn't I tell you that? I wish to heaven I was well out of it!"
"That's a lie," said Ralph coolly.
"Oh, Doctor Cowdray, I wouldn't lie to you! I wouldn't do such a thing!" he protested volubly.
"Did you hire Joe Mixer to bring you after me?" Ralph demanded imperatively.
"Yes," faltered Stack. "But for a purely legitimate purpose. I swear it!"