Chub McReady had no very clear idea why Carl was displaying so much hostility toward Slocum. The bell-boy had mentioned Slocum's name in connection with carrying the pitcher of water to Matt's room, and Chub supposed Carl was to do some questioning along that line. The drawing of the revolver not only surprised Chub, but led him to believe that Slocum had a guilty conscience and was ready to go any length in defending himself.
"This is an infernal outrage, by gad!" cried Slocum. "What do you young ruffians mean by setting upon me like that?"
As he spoke he picked up a newspaper and threw it over the table. It was an odd move for a man to make at such a time.
"Vat do you mean py making some moofs mit a gun?" demanded Carl.
"Why, you pie-faced Dutchman, why shouldn't I pull a gun when I'm set upon like that? I was just leaving my room to go down to breakfast when you began to climb all over me. What's the matter with you, anyhow?"
"Pie-face!" gasped Carl; "you call me dot! Py chincher, you haf got a face like some hedge fences, und you haf a heart vat iss so plack und dricky as I can't dell. Vat you do ven you meed der poy pringing some vater py Modor Matt's room lasdt nighdt? Tell me dot!"
"Do? I sent him down to see if there was any mail for me. What business is that of yours, anyway? Give me that gun and get out of here, both of you!"
Slocum gave the paper another hitch on the table. Chub was already guessing about the moves he had made with that paper, and what he saw now brought his guessing to the suspecting stage. Stepping to the table, he cast the paper aside. A small bottle, half-full of some drug, lay on the table. Slocum, with a quick sweep of his hand grabbed the bottle away.
"He's got somet'ing he don'd vant us to see!" exclaimed Carl.
"I'm next to that, all right," said Chub. "Put it back on the table, Slocum," he added sharply. "Don't be a mutt. I'm from Arizona, and we don't speak twice when we back up our first talk with a gun."