“Why,” floundered Leonard, “I mean he had to—to do his duty. Stick to rules, you know. He wasn’t—”
“Then you think it was Johnny who put me off?”
Leonard pulled up with a start. He wasn’t supposed to know a thing, and here he had been giving himself away. He sought for a way out. Renneker broke the silence.
“Look here, Grant, I don’t get this at all. Has Mr. Cade been talking?”
“No, not to me, at any rate.”
“Well, somebody has,” pursued Renneker grimly. “What have you heard, Grant? I wish you’d tell me.”
After an instant’s hesitation Leonard did so. Renneker listened in silence. “None of us have breathed a word of it,” concluded the speaker earnestly. “Only Carnochan, and he was sore because of that scrap.”
“Scrap be blowed,” said Renneker. “There wasn’t any scrap. Those fellows pushed into us and we had some words, merely joking. Then this fellow suddenly jumped at Reilly and tried to punch him and I stepped in the way and got the punch. I told him to behave and he jabbed at me again. Then I gave him one in the ribs. That’s all there was to it. As far as we were concerned, the whole thing was a joke, but that crazy Irishman lost his temper, I guess.”
“Yes,” said Leonard, “I guess, from what Johnny says, that he’s sort of hot-headed.”