“The Coyote has a bit of a record, they tell me,” Carlisle leered. “There’s more’n one sheriff would pay a pretty price to get him safe, eh?”
“Just what’s your idea in telling me all this, Carlisle; why don’t you tell what you know to Mannix, say?”
“Maybe I’m just teasing you along.”
“Not a chance, Carlisle. I know your breed.”
The other’s face darkened, and his eyes glittered as he peered in through the bars.
“What’s your breed?” he asked sneeringly.
“I don’t have to tell you that, Carlisle. You know!” said Rathburn with a taunting laugh.
Carlisle struggled with his anger for a brief spell. Then he shrugged his shoulders.
“I ain’t going to poke at you in a cage,” he said in a more civil tone; “an’ I ain’t going to tell anybody what I know. Remember that.”
“I ain’t the forgetting kind,” Rathburn flung after him as he walked swiftly away.