Oldham
listened to the end. His cynical expression did not change; and the
unlighted cigar that he held between his swollen lips never changed its
angle.
"And so he just nat'rally disappeared," Saleratus Bill ended his
recital. "I can't figure it out."
Then Oldham spat forth the cigar. His calm utterly deserted him. He
thrust his livid countenance out at his man.
"Figure it out!" he cried. "You pin-headed fool! You had an unarmed man
tied hand and foot, in a three-thousand-foot hole, and you couldn't keep
him! And one of the smallest interests involved is worth more than
everything your worthless hide can hold! I picked you out for this job
because I thought you reliable. And now you come to me with 'I can't
figure it out!' That's all the explanation or excuse you bring! You
miserable, worthless cur!"
Saleratus Bill was looking at him steadily from his evil, red-rimmed
eyes.
"Hold on," he drawled. "Go slow. I don't stand such talk."
Oldham spurred up close to him.
"Don't you try any of your gun-play or intimidation on me," he fairly
shouted. "I won't stand for it. You'll hear what I've got to say, just
as long as I choose to say it.
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