Sam made no reply, but stared industriously at his shoes.
Lon went on with his work—he was repairing a harness. He fitted a new buckle in place of an old one; tested it; glanced again at his young friend.
“I dunno, Sam, but you’d feel better if you got it out of your system,” he remarked leisurely.
No response from the youth on the bench.
Lon continued his task for a time. Then he began to whistle. Sam stirred uneasily.
“What’s the matter? Out o’ tune, am I?” Lon inquired.
“Way out!” snapped the boy.
Then Lon laughed. “Ha, ha! Must ’a’ ketched it off you, son. What’s the trouble, anyhow?”
“Noth—nothing.”
“All right—tell me about it.”