“Sam was chewing the rag with him, too, before he hit out,” some one said.
“Look here, Mr. Breck,” Shunk Wilson continued. “You've been interruptin' proceedings, and you got to explain the meanin' of it. What was you chinnin' about?”
Breck cleared his throat timidly and replied. “I was just trying to buy some grub.”
“What with?”
“Dust, of course.”
“Where'd you get it?”
Breck did not answer.
“He's been snoopin' around up the Stewart,” a man volunteered. “I run across his camp a week ago when I was huntin'. An' I want to tell you he was almighty secretious about it.”
“The dust didn't come from there,” Breck said. “That's only a low-grade hydraulic proposition.”
“Bring your poke here an' let's see your dust,” Wilson commanded.