“My handkerchief. I’d been making the fire and my hands weren’t very clean, you know.”
“Do you carry your handkerchief in your hip pocket?” asked Chub skeptically.
“When I haven’t my coat on,” replied the other. “I guess it’s there yet; I don’t think I’ve taken it out. Yes, here it is.” And he reached back to his hip pocket and drew it forth.
“Oh,” said Chub, looking a little foolish. “I thought—” He hesitated.
“You thought,” said Billy, his blue eyes sparkling with good-natured raillery, “that I was going to ‘pull a gun’ and blow holes in you. Wasn’t that it?”
“Well, it looked as though you were reaching for a revolver.”
“Did it? You’re too suspicious,” laughed the other. “I’ll confess you startled me, but I’m a more peaceable chap than you give me credit for being.” There was a moment’s silence. Then Billy laughed softly. “Say,” he asked, “do you know what I was doing when you folks came along?”
Chub shook his head.
“I was just going to open that can of mushrooms,” answered Billy. “I’d had a pretty successful day and thought that now was my chance to celebrate.”
“Did you sell some books?” Chub asked.