“Someone took them from our camp,” Red went on, ignoring Mr. Hatfield’s warning glance. “If you didn’t swipe ’em—”
“Well, I didn’t and you better not accuse me! I’ve been right here for the last forty minutes.”
“You’re using Mrs. Jones’ rifle!” Red accused, refusing to be checked.
“Why not? She never touched it. A rifle was meant to be used not left to rust.”
“Mrs. Jones thinks you’ve been taking things from her.”
“That’s a black lie!”
“Cord wood for instance.”
“What would I steal wood for, when I have to keep chopping more to replace it?” Jack shouted furiously. “Use your head, or haven’t you got one?”
At this point, Mr. Hatfield warned Red to drop the argument.
“Sorry,” the boy mumbled.