"It's Toot Wambush!" cried the girl, rising quickly and turning to the door. "I am afraid he—" Just then the young ruffian entered. His red face and unsteady walk showed that he had been drinking.
"Say, Miss Harriet, have you seed—oh, heer you are!"—he broke off as he noticed Westerfelt. "You are the one man in the United Kingdom that I want to see jest at this present moment. Bill Washburn 'lowed he had orders from you not to let me have anything out'n yore shebang; is that so?"
"I'd rather not talk business here," replied Westerfelt. He rose and coolly looked Wambush in the face. "If you say so, we'll walk across to the stable."
"No," sneered Wambush, "this heer's good enough fur me; I hain't got no secrets frum them mount'in men out thar nur this young lady. I jest want ter know now—right now, by Glory! ef you ever give sech orders."
"Do you think this is a proper place to settle such a matter?" calmly asked Westerfelt.
"D——d you; you are a coward; you are afeerd to say so!"
Harriet Floyd, with a white, startled face, tried to slip between the two men, but Wambush roughly pushed her aside.
"You are afeerd!" he repeated, shaking his fist in Westerfelt's face.
"No, I'm not," replied Westerfelt. The corners of his mouth were drawn down and his chin was puckered. "I have fought some in my life, and sometimes I get as mad as the next one, but I still try to be decent before ladies. This is no place to settle a difficulty."
"Will you do it outside, then?" sneered Wambush.