“Ain’t you now?” I says. “I thought it was kind of a game with you.”
“What do you mean—game?” says Silas, scowling.
“Cat and mouse,” I says brief. “You the cat and Bitty Marshall the mouse.”
Silas stood up straight and just towered at me.
“What you been hearing now?” he says, demandful.
“Well,” I answered him, “nothing that surprised me very much. Only that you’ve been underselling Bitty so’s to drive him out and keep the trade of the Flats yourself.”
Silas never squinched.
“Well,” says he, “what if I have? Ain’t I got a right to protect my own business?”
I looked him square in the eye.
“No,” I says, “not that way.”