“What a set of cheap skates!” sneered Berlin.
“Cheap skates, hey?” rasped Lander. “Well, if there’s anybody around these parts cheaper than you are, he can be bought for less than a cent. I know you pretty well of old, Barker. It was you who helped turn the fellers against me, and you was mighty rejoiced when I got into that little scrape two years ago. I don’t forget them things. Now you and your friends better chase yourselves and take your dog along with you, if you care anything about him. We’re hunting here in this swamp, and we don’t propose to be bothered by you. Git!”
“We don’t cuc-care about hunting around here,” said Springer hastily. “Come on, Berlin.”
Although reluctant to be driven away, Barker, having cooled down somewhat, began to entertain apprehensions for the safety of Silver Tongue should he remain in that vicinity.
“Mr. Grant is very courageous—when he has a gun in his hands,” he sneered. “At any other time he’s a——”
“You’ve said that before,” interrupted Rod in a tone that made Berlin start a bit in spite of himself. “Be careful that you don’t say it once too often.”
Barker shrugged his shoulders and laughed. “I don’t have to say it; every fellow in Oakdale knows what you are. Come, Silver Tongue—come, sir. Come on, fellows; there are plenty of other places to run rabbits.”
“And, counting yourself and your friends, you make a fine bunch of dogs for the purpose,” Lander flung after them.
In a few moments Barker and his companions disappeared into the woods, and soon the muttering of their voices died out in the distance.
“How’d you get here, anyhow, Roddy?” questioned Bunk, with a grin. “We left you ’way back yonder.”