Harrison laughed spitefully. "I saw him do a better fall than that oncet."
Farrar was on the spot. "I saw you do a mighty good one the same day."
"Don't get fresh, young fella, or you'll do more than see one," snarled the heavy.
"Want to beat me up, Chad?" asked Farrar with innocent impudence. "I weigh one hundred and thirty-one pounds when I'm hog fat. How much do you weigh?"
"Cut it out, Frank," ordered Threewit. "I've had about enough of this jangling. If it isn't stopped, some one's going to lose a job. We're here to take pictures. Any one who's got any other idea had better call at the office for his time."
"Meaning me, Mr. Director?" demanded Harrison menacingly.
"Meaning you or anybody else that won't keep the rules I set for the company I run," retorted the director sharply.
"Forget it, Threewit. I'm no kid. Nobody runs me with rules. I do as I please."
"You'll not make trouble in my company."
"You ain't any little tin god on wheels. Don't run away with that idee in your bean. I haven't seen any man yet that can lay onto me without getting his hair curled for him. Me, I play my own hand, by God; and I don't care whether it's against Mr. Yeager or Mr. Farrar—or Mr. Threewit. See?"