Harp made a feint to grab a chair and Silent ducked for the doorway; but Harp turned from the chair, grasped the piece of cow-hide off Brick’s desk, and hurled it at Silent.
The piece of heavy, wet hide sailed like a blue-rock shot from a trap, missed Silent by two feet and stopped with a dismal splat, after it had passed through the doorway.
Silent ducked back inside, his mouth wide with astonishment, while from without came a vitriolic curse, and Sam Leach stepped just inside the door, wiping his face with the sleeve of his coat.
“Who in hit me?” he demanded.
“Hit yuh?” queried Harp, choking back his laughter.
“Some thing,” Leach looked back, spitting angrily.
“Oh, it must ’a’ been that piece of hide,” said Harp slowly. “I throwed it outside. It—it was kinda spoiled, Leach.”
“Um-m-m!”
Leach felt of his face and sniffed disgustedly. Then he whirled on his heel and went away, while the three men proceeded to relieve their feelings with tears.
“Hit him right in the mouth!” choked Silent. “Ker-splat!”