“Why, it’s something that belongs to me,” said Lawton crisply.
“It looks like the salt-box from our cabin,” Tom said. He was trembling with expectation, yet he hardly knew what more he could do or say.
“I can’t help that,” said Lawton. “You don’t think I stole your salt-box, do you? You haven’t as much sense of humor as your friend, Slade. What’s the idea now? I was running because I’m late and in a hurry to get to the dam; I’ve got to pay off a couple of tree men. Let’s make it to-morrow.”
For a few seconds Tom looked straight at him. “You’re not running toward the dam,” he said, “and besides, they never heard of you there, Lawton.”
Lawton winced at this but regained his composure. “You were talking with Edwards?” he asked, with an air of perfect sincerity.
“Oh, cut it out,” said Tom disgustedly. “I don’t believe there’s any one there by that name and I think you’re the biggest liar that ever made fools out of two poor simps, that’s what I think.”
“I suppose you want me to lay this box down and hit you and then you’ll pick up the box,” said Lawton. “Does the box belong to you? Tell me that, does the box belong to you? Am I stealing anything of yours? There’s the whole matter at a point. Is it yours?”
“Well—n-no, it isn’t,” Tom acknowledged weakly.
“Well, then, how long do we have to stand talking here?”
“Why, just a few minutes longer,” said a familiar voice.