"Who told you to come in? You—you——"
"He was aiming to kill me," cried old Honeycutt, dragging and pulling at
King's sleeve. "He was for doin' for me—like that!"
He pointed to the floor. There lay a heavy iron poker bent double.
"He done it. Brodie done it. He was for doin' me——"
"You old fool, I'll do you yet," growled Brodie. "And you, King, what are you after?"
Always truculent, to-day Brodie was plainly spoiling for trouble. King had stepped in at a moment when Brodie was in no mood to brook any interruption or interference.
"I came for a word with Honeycutt, not with you," King flashed back at him. "And from the look of things Honeycutt is thanking his stars that I did come."
"If you mean anything by that," shouted Brodie threateningly, "put a name to it."
"If it's a fight you want," said King sharply, "I'm ready to take you on, any time, and without a lot of palaver."
Old Honeycutt began sidling off toward the back door, neither of his two visitors noticing him now as their eyes clashed.