"We're just breastin' out—cross-cuttin' the streak, but—looky." Jerry removed a baking-powder can from the window-shelf and out of it he poured a considerable amount of coarse gold which the visitors examined with intense interest. "Them's our pannin's."
"How splendid!" Rouletta cried.
"I been clamorin' to hire some men and take life easy. I say put on a gang and h'ist it out, but"—Jerry shot a glance at his partner—"people tell me I'm vi'lent an' headstrong. They say, 'Prove it up.'"
Linton interrupted by loudly exclaiming, "Come and get it, strangers, or I'll throw it out and wash the skillet."
Supper was welcome, but, despite the diners' preoccupation with it, despite Tom's and Jerry's effort to conceal the fact of their estrangement, it became evident that something was amiss. Rouletta finally sat back and, with an accusing glance, demanded to know what was the matter.
The old men met her eyes with an assumption of blank astonishment.
"'Fess up," she persisted. "Have you boys been quarreling again?"
"Who? Us? Why, not exactly—"
"We sort of had words, mebbe."
"What about?"