"That won't do."
"Don't you go too far, Dick Dewey. I'm your aiqual."
"No man is my equal who creeps to my tent at the dead of night. Do
you know what the camp will think, O'Eeilly?"
"And what will they think?"
"That you came to rob me."
"Then they'll think a lie!" said O'Reilly, startled, for he knew
that on such a charge he would be liable to be suspended to the
nearest tree.
"If they chose to think so, it would be bad for you."
"You know it isn't so Dick Dewey," said O'Reilly.
"I consider your intention quite as bad. You wanted to prevent this
poor Chinaman from ever returning to his native land, though he had
never injured you in any way. You can't deny it."
"I don't belave a word of all that rigmarole, Dick Dewey."
"It makes little difference whether you believe it or not. You have
shown a disposition to injure and annoy Ki Sing, but I have foiled
you. And now," here Dewey's tone became deep and stern, "give me that
knife directly, and go back to your tent, or I'll rouse the camp,
and they may form their own conclusions as to what brought you
here."
O'Reilly felt that Dewey was in earnest, and that he must yield. He
did so with a bad grace enough and slunk back to his tent, which he
did not leave till morning.
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