“I mean, where do you live?”
“Right here at the present moment. I don’t look as if I were dead, do I?”
“You may be soon if you ain’t more civil. What happened to the village?”
“Some people got singed, others got wet. I got a little of both before I shipped.”
The man got down from his horse and stepped around where he could see the fat boy’s face. Stacy gave him a slow, sidelong glance, then turned his attention to his line. He had a bite, and a few seconds later he landed a fish.
“Huh!” grunted the stranger. “Anybody with you?”
“A few grubs in my pocket and myself, that’s all. Who are you?”
“None of your business!”
Stacy regarded the stranger blinkingly. The fellow was not a pleasant-looking man, and a scar across one cheek gave him a still more evil look. The horse he rode, Stacy observed, was a fine animal and looked as though it could develop a lot of speed.
“Where’d you get the nag?” questioned the boy.