“Yes. We weren’t in any hurry and the place was cold, so Bunk started a fire.”
“H’m! You’ve got it fixed up purty well, ain’t ye?”
Rod felt his cheeks burn. “I don’t know what you mean, for there was nothing to fix up. I do know that you’re making me right sore with your questions and your nasty doubting manner, and I don’t propose to answer anything further until you inform me what all this is about. What are you driving at?”
The man reached into his pocket and brought forth a red silk handkerchief, which he offered to Rod.
“I guess you dropped this handkercher on your way, didn’t ye? It’s yourn, ain’t it?”
Grant took the handkerchief and looked at it. “Yes,” he replied, forgetting his determination to answer no more questions, “it’s mine.”
CHAPTER XXV.
SETTLEMENT DAY DRAWS NEAR.
Once more Barker laughed, this time triumphantly, exultantly, for he felt sure that Rodney Grant had trapped himself by that admission.