He expected to hear Hadley answer in his usual style, but was disappointed.
"When are we going to divide?" asked Hadley, with an expression of interest not unmingled with anxiety.
"You'd better let me carry it, Tom; it's all the same."
"I should say so. No, I would prefer to take charge of my part," said Hadley, "or at least to carry the bag part of the time."
Bill Mosely frowned darkly, and he brought his hand near the pocket in which he carried his pistol. "Hadley," he said, sternly, "do you doubt my honor?"
"I should say—not," answered Tom Hadley in a dissatisfied tone, bringing out the last word after a slight pause; "but I don't see why I shouldn't carry the bag part of the time."
"Had you doubted my honor," continued Mosely with a grand air, "though you are my friend, I should have been compelled to take your life. I never take any back talk. I chaw up any one who insults me. I'm a regular out-and-out desperado, I am, when I'm riled."
"I've heard all that before," said Tom Hadley, rather impatiently.
It was quite true, for this was the style in which Bill Mosely was accustomed to address new acquaintances. It had not succeeded with Jake Bradley, who had enough knowledge of human nature to detect the falsity of Mosely's pretensions and the sham character of his valor.
"You've heard it before," said Mosely, severely, "but ain't it true? That's what I ask you, Tom Hadley."