"You keep away from Josie 'r you'll find out what I think." Nat's placidity deceived Roland, who drew the wholly erroneous conclusion that he had succeeded in frightening his rival, and consequently dared a few lengths further in his tirade. "Why, if I was to go to Mr. Lockwood and tell him you're Mortimer Henry, alias Nat Duncan——"
Duncan's temper suddenly snapped like a taut violin string.
"That will do," he said icily. "That will be all for this evening, thanks."
"Ah... Are you going to quit chasin' after Josie?"
"I'll begin chasing after you if you don't clear out of here."
"You better agree——"
Just there the storm burst. Ten seconds later Roland, with a confused impression of having been kicked by a mule, picked himself up out of the dust in the middle of the street and stared stupidly back at the store. Nat was waiting in the doorway for a renewal of hostilities, if any such there were to be. Seeing, however, that Roland had apparently sated his appetite for personal conflict, he picked up a dark object at his feet and held it out.
"Here's your hat, Roly," he called.
Roland spat out a mouthful of dust and swore beneath his breath. "Throw it out here," he replied prudently.