“There’s no use in your trying to put up a bluff. It won’t go. You understand perfectly what I mean.”
“[YOU’RE LOOKING FOR TROUBLE]”
“I understand that [you’re looking for trouble],” said Orkney slowly. “That’s nothing new with you and your crowd—you think you own the earth, and you’d like to fence in this part of it for your own stamping grounds. You had things your own way till I came along, and you’ve always been down on me because I wouldn’t tail on after your procession. You’d rather interfere with me than eat, any of you. Why, just the other day Step Jones——”
“Leave Step out of this!” Sam interposed. He had not been able to reconcile himself wholly to Step’s performance; and Orkney having found a weak spot in his armor, his tone was more belligerent than ever. “You’re dealing with me and not with Jones this time. And Step doesn’t beat dogs, and cut clothes-lines, and heave rocks through windows.”
“Well, who does?”
“You do!” roared Sam.
Orkney pulled up. He faced his accuser, and his eyes did not fall before Sam’s.
“Parker, you’re talking like a wild man,” he said.
“Wild, am I? Not much! I’ve got proof!”