“What kind of a gun is that?” he asked suddenly.
Silent spun around, a look of fury on his face.
“Listen here, you!” he snarled. “I’ll take your orders when it’s part of my job. I’m gettin’ paid for it. But I’m not gettin’ paid to answer questions! Understand?”
Teddy’s eyes narrowed. He stepped toward the man.
“You just forget I’m a boss,” the boy said deliberately. “I’ll forget it too. There’s little room in this outfit for a bird like you. But you know how we’re fixed. We have to take what comes. Now, if you crave action, drop that cinch-strap and—”
“Hey, Teddy!” It was Pop, yelling from the ranch-house porch. “Yore dad wants to speak to you!”
The boy did not turn immediately. Instead, he stood staring at Silent.
The puncher released his hold on the strap, but he did not face about.
“Fade,” Silent said briefly. “I’m busy.”
“You can be a lot busier,” Teddy declared. “Maybe we’ll talk this over later.”