He knocked on the door.
“I’m through in here, Dimmock,” he called. “Let me out.”
The door opened.
“Good-by,” said Tibbits mockingly, and faded into the hall.
McGlory roared wrathfully, and shook his fist at the locked door. Motor Matt lowered himself into a chair and grew thoughtful.
[CHAPTER X.
PRISONERS.]
“And this,” grunted McGlory, “is what he calls explaining matters to our ‘complete satisfaction.’ Satisfaction! Sufferin’ Hottentots! Do I look satisfied?”
The cowboy, in his dress suit and boiling with rage, looked far from satisfied. In fact, he presented such a humorous spectacle that Matt laughed.
“Oh,” he grunted disgustedly, “you’d laugh, Matt, if you were going to be hung. But think what this means to me! I want to dig up the hatchet and go on the war-path.”