"Yes."
"Then I don't admire your taste. He's rough and uncouth, and is more fitted for a farm laborer than for society."
"That may be," said Harry, "but he is honest and reliable."
He might perhaps unconsciously have emphasized the word honest. At any rate, Fletcher so understood him, and took offence at the implication.
"Look here, young whipper-snapper," he said roughly, "you'd better take care how you talk. You are in my power, and something will happen to you if you are insolent."
"What have I said to offend you?" asked Harry, looking the bushranger calmly in the face. "I am not speaking of you, but of Mr. Stackpole."
"You meant to insinuate that there was a difference between us."
"That ought not to offend you, as you have so poor an opinion of him."
Harry evidently had the best of it, and Fletcher felt cornered, for he did not care to court the charge of dishonesty.
"Perhaps you didn't mean anything," he growled. "If so, all is well, but you had best be careful."