"
"What!" exclaimed Slone.
Brackton repeated substantially what he had said, then, pausing an instant,
continued: "I've no call to give you a hunch, but I'll do it jest because I
did like you fust off."
The old man seemed fussy and nervous and patronizing and disparaging all at
once.
"What'd you beat up thet poor Joel Creech fer?" demanded Brackton.
"He got what he deserved," replied Slone, and the memory, coming on the head
of this strange attitude of Brackton's, roused Slone's temper.
"Wal, Joel tells some queer things about you--fer instance, how you took
advantage of little Lucy Bostil, grabbin' her an' maulin' her the way Joel
seen you."
"D--n the loon!" muttered Slone, rising to pace the path.
"Wal, Joel's a bit off, but he's not loony all the time. He's seen you an'
he's tellin' it. When Bostil hears it you'd better be acrost the canyon!"
Slone felt the hot, sick rush of blood to his face, and humiliation and rage
overtook him.
"Joel's down at my house. He had fits after you beat him, an' he 'ain't got
over them yet.
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