“Sure I did; I called a bluff from a cowboy and I chucked his dare in his face.”
“Get out.”
“You just give me one and see,” said Hervey.
“Well, if yer mother will leave yer out,” said the young man, “you meet me in the parking space in back of the post office at ten o’clock to-night and I’ll give yer a dare all right; I’ll give yer a good one. I’ll show yer you’re a flat tire.”
“You call me a flat tire?”
“Sure, you’re a blowout—all noise and no action.”
This was too much for Hervey. He forgot that this was the evening of his welcome home. He forgot that he had ever been to Temple Camp or that this tough young stranger meant nothing to him. He never approached toward acquaintanceship by the usual slow process. And his sense of discrimination was conspicuous by its absence.
“I’ll be there all right, you leave it to me,” he said.
“Ten bells,” said the tough young fellow.
“You leave it to me,” said Hervey.