But her father cut her short. The flesh-tinted patch, which Gordon had almost forgotten, which he used to cover his left eye with, was thrust up absurdly upon his forehead. His heavy brows were drawn together in an angry frown. His tufty chin beard was aggressively thrust, his two great hands were stuck in the waist of his trousers, which gave him further an air of truculence.
"Say," he cried, his deep, rolling voice now raised to a pitch of thunder, "it's taken me fifty-six years to come up with what I've been chasing all my life. Say, I've spent years an' years huntin' around to find something meaner than a rattlesnake. Guess I come up with him to-day."
"David Slosson," cried Hazel, her eyes wide with her anger.
Her father waved her aside as she came towards him.
"No, don't you butt in. I've got to let off hot air, or—or—I'll bust."
He paced off down the little veranda, and came back again. Then he stood still, and suddenly brought one great fist down with terrific force into his other palm.
"Gee, but it's tough. Say, you ever tried to hold a slimy eel?" he cried, glaring fiercely into Gordon's questioning eyes. "No? It's a heap of a dirty and unsatisfact'ry job, but it ain't as dirty as dealing with Mr. David Slosson, nor half as unsatisfact'ry. You can stamp your heel on it, and crush it into the ground. With David Slosson you just got to talk pretty and fence while you know he's got you beat all along the line, an' all the time you're just needin' to kill him all to death. Of all the white-livered bums. Say, if only the good God would push him right into these two hands an' say squeeze him. Say——" He held out his two clenched fists as though he were wringing out a sponge.
Gordon raked his hair with one hand.
"Do you need to worry that way, Mr. Mallinsbee? I owe him some myself."
The old man glared for some moments. Then a subtle smile crept into his eyes. Hazel saw it, and seized the opportunity.