"Why were you running away from me?" Matt countered.
"That's my business. You answer my question. I guess you'd better treat me white, 'cause it's me that keeps the Hindoo from doin' a little knife work on you."
"Burton wanted you to tell him something about that letter," Matt answered, making up his mind that a little of the truth would not be out of place.
"Oh, ho!" muttered Wily. "Does he think I can read Hindoostanee?"
"No. What he wanted to know was where you got the letter. The Hindoos who have been connected with the show haven't turned out very well—they are all fugitives from the law, even Dhondaram."
Not a ripple crossed the placid brown face of the Hindoo; only his glittering eyes revealed the feeling that slumbered in the depths of his soul.
"I guessed there'd be a stir about that letter," went on Wily, "an' that's the reason I made up my mind to pull out. I'd had to explain, an' no matter what I'd said I'd have been fired, anyway. I used to live in Grand Rapids, and the home town was a good place for me to cut loose from the show, see?"
"Why are you treating me like this?" asked Matt quietly.
"Couldn't help it. Them kid pards o' yours was the cause o' the hull bloomin' twist-up!" Wily Bill swore savagely under his breath. "I'd like to take the kinks out o' that Dutchman. He's too much on the buttinsky order. You chased after me, hung on, an' wouldn't let go. What else could I do but make myself safe?"
"You didn't have to have Dhondaram knock me down."