“Yep.” Jim’s face wore something approaching a smile. He knew exactly what to expect before the night was out, and Smallbones’ questions had no terrors for him. He had nothing to gain, and nothing to lose, except that which he had already made up his mind to lose––if necessary.
“What wer’ you doin’ out by that bluff?” Smallbones demanded.
“That’s my business.”
The little man snarled furiously. All eyes were set curiously upon Jim’s face, but there were several smiles at the manner of the snub. Peter Blunt standing beside Angel Gay was hopelessly wondering at the sudden turn of events.
But now Doc Crombie once more took the lead.
“We’ll send up six boys and bring him in. I’ll go myself.” He turned and gave his orders. Then his luminous eyes settled themselves steadily upon Jim’s face. “We want the rights o’ this, sure. Do you know anything more?”
But Jim was tired of the questioning. He shrugged his shoulders.
“I’ve told all I’ve got to tell you. For Heaven’s sake, go and fetch in the man’s body. It’ll maybe tell you more than it told me.”
He turned to the bar and called for a drink, which he devoured thirstily.
But Doc Crombie was not to be dealt with in so cavalier a fashion.