“Then you’ll have to walk over me to do it, colonel!” asserted McGlory.
“By gad!” muttered the colonel. “You’ve got as little sense as he has.”
“Brainwork never was my long suit, but I’ve seen enough of Pard Matt to feel safe in banking on any notion that he bats up to me.”
“Bah!” gibed the colonel. “I’ll talk with you later, McGlory, and take pains to show you the error of your way. As for Matt King, he’s a false friend. He’s jealous because you’re about to come into a fortune, and he’s doing all he can to shift the cut and leave you stranded.”
“That’s not true!” said Matt. “Joe knows me better than that.”
“Sure I do, pard. Come on, and let’s get out of here.”
The actions of the two men were threatening. McGlory started toward the door; but happened to remember that it was locked, and that the colonel had the key in his pocket.
“Cough up the key, colonel,” said the cowboy. “Don’t force me to yell and have up that fellow with the knee pants and the lilocks.”
“It will be better for you youngsters,” growled the colonel, “if you don’t raise a commotion. The surest way to see the inside of a lockup is by calling for help. Are you going to hand over those papers?” And he turned to Matt. “Last call.”
“I’ll return them,” said Matt, “but not till after that meeting to-night.”