“Ah, did you so!” The man waved him aside with one huge hand. “Well, you have been there long enough. Stand aside.”
But the lad did not move; a wicked look came into the ratty eyes, and again the huge hand waved him away.
“Belike you’ll have me do more than wave with the hand,” said the man. “I’ll give you a moment to choose.”
Ben at once stepped aside, giving the ruffian a clear way to the fireplace. With the yellow grin wide upon his face, the man stooped to lift the bubbling saucepans from the fire. But before he could so much as touch them, something beat a sharp rat-tat-tat upon his head; leaping up, he found Ben regarding him calmly, a pistol in his hand.
“You seem in haste, sir,” said the boy, as he trifled with the lock of his weapon carelessly. “It may be that the use of a pistol barrel to drive an idea into your head is not to your liking.”
For an instant the man was taken aback, but he quickly recovered his poise.
“So they have taken to entrusting children with firearms?” sneered he. “It is a thing of which I can’t say I approve; and so, lad, I bid you to put that toy down, or I shall be compelled to assume your father’s place, and take a cudgel to you.”
“It’s a cold night,” said the youth, “but I fancy that you can bear the cold much better than we can your company.” The pistol barrel indicated the door. “So go at once, and let us have no further waste of words.”
The man saw that his attitude of disbelief in the boy would be of no use; and so with an evil look, he crossed the floor and threw open the door. Then he halted.
“This is not the first time that I’ve seen you,” he said. “I make no mistake in you, because you were carefully pointed out to me by a gentleman who has,” here the yellow smile was most manifest, “your future much in mind.”