Both barons swore.
“Confound it, Phelps,” gurgled Benner, “that was your fault.”
“Oh, yes,” snorted Phelps, “whenever you make a misplay it’s my fault! When I gave you that information I couldn’t talk it, so I had to write.”
“And I wasn’t able to read it then, and so I had to put it in my watch and read it later. But you could have waited. We’d have had plenty of chance to talk privately before we left Hackamore. That’s where you was lame. You didn’t wait.”
“And where was you lame?” taunted Phelps. “Making that bet to throw watches. Why didn’t you think of what was in that watch of yours, hey? You——”
“That’s enough,” interrupted the scout. “Save your bickering until Perry and I get away. Benner, what have you done with Hattie Perry?”
“I don’t know anything about Hattie Perry,” answered Benner sulkily.
“Yes, you do. You’re talking crooked, when you say that; I can see it in your face. Where is the girl? If you know when you’re well off, you’ll tell me, and not make any bones about it.”
“Who’re you, anyhow?” flashed Benner. “You may amount to something in your own neck of the woods, but you don’t cut much of a caper here on the Brazos. This is our ground, this is! When Perry sees his daughter next, she’ll be Mrs. Benner.”
Fortunately, Perry didn’t hear Benner’s remark.