The colonel was beginning to lose patience.
“You’ve got less sense than any cub of your years I ever met up with!” he cried irritably. “How much money do you want for that report and letter? That’s your play, I reckon; and I’d rather shell out a hundred or two than have any trouble with you. How much do I bleed?”
The colonel measured Matt with wrathful and inquiring eyes.
“You haven’t money enough to buy me!” declared Matt.
“Aw, cut it short!” broke in Levitt savagely. “What’s the use of fooling with him any longer?
“Wait!” cautioned the colonel. “McGlory,” he went on, to the cowboy, “what do you mean by lugging such a two-faced longhorn into a private and important council like this?”
“You’re wide of your trail, colonel,” said McGlory, with spirit. “There’s nothing two-faced about Matt King, and you can spread your blankets and go to sleep on that. He’s the clear quill from spurs to sombrero, and the best pard that ever rode sign with me. Don’t you make any mistake in taking his sizing.”
“Well, what is he trying to rope down and tie your bright prospects for?”
“He’s got more sense in a minute than I have in a year, and you can bet your boot straps he knows what he’s doing—even if I don’t.”
“You’re far wide of your trail, Joseph. Matt King is committing an illegal act this minute. He has property belonging to Levitt and refuses to give it up. He could be jailed for a thief. But we’re not going to jail him. We’ll just take that report and letter from him.”