“Let him up, Tommy,” he said.
Nelson, rubbing the oil and grease from his hands with a bunch of waste, appeared at the door.
“Wh-what the dickens!” he cried in amazement as he looked.
“Oh, Tommy and Dan have been having a little football!” answered Bob. Dan climbed to his feet and observed Tom disgustedly.
“You think you’re mighty smart, I suppose!” he growled. “For two cents I’d bump your silly fat head against——”
“Cut it out!” said Bob sharply. “You’ve made a fool of yourself long enough, Dan. You came near getting yourself plugged full of holes, and Tommy did just right. You think yourself a bloody hero, I dare say, but you ought to be kicked. Nice mess you’d made of it if that old terror had put a bullet into you! Next time I go cruising, I’ll bet there’ll be no red-headed lunatics aboard! Hand me my revolver!”
Dan, abashed, picked up the pistol and gave it to its owner.
“You needn’t be so blamed grouchy,” he muttered.
“You’d make anyone grouchy,” answered Bob. “And I want you to understand that you’re to let my things alone after this.” He broke the revolver to extract the cartridges. Then he looked in surprise at Dan.