"Vell, I don'd like blaying der pancho for dot Zulu feller. I dit id vonce, und den fired meinseluf. Vat I vant iss somet'ing light und conshenial—hantling money vould aboudt suit me, I bed you. Dot's vat I vanted to see der ticket feller aboudt. I vanted to ask him vould he blease gif me some chob in der ticket wagon, und I took him off vere ve could haf some gonversations alone. Dot's all aboudt it, und oof I shtole some money, vere it iss, und vy don'd I got it? Tell me dot!"
"That's a raw bluff you're putting up," scowled Burton. "You're nobody's fool, even if you do try to make people think so."
"I ain't your fool, neider," cried Carl, warming up. "You can't make some monkey-doodle pitzness oudt oof me. You may own der show und be a pig feller, aber I got some money meinseluf oof it efer geds here from Inchia, so for vy should I vant to svipe your money, hey?"
"What happened between the wagons, Carl?" went on Matt. "Just keep your ideas to yourself, Burton," he added, "and don't accuse Carl until he has a chance to give his side of the story. Did you see the man who knocked Carter down?"
"I don'd see nodding," said Carl.
"Do you mean to say," asked Carter, rising up on the blanket, "that I wasn't knocked down?"
"I don'd know vedder or nod you vas knocked down. How could I tell dot?"
"You were there with Carter—there between the wagons," cried Burton angrily. "Why shouldn't you have seen what happened?"
"Look here vonce."
Carl pulled off his cap and bent his head.