Part 18 (2/2)
It was disconnected, but Brent understood the last part well enough.
Also, it had flashed across his mind that if Tusk were really burned out, Tom had done it and concocted a plausible tale in order to gain this fellow as an ally. So he sat for a minute trying to grasp the dangling threads of this surprising situation.
”Tusk,” he said, ”I didn't know you were burned out, and, of course, I didn't do it; but I will buy your land if you'll come in town Monday and sign--that is, if Dulany finds the t.i.tle clear. He's getting some other pieces for me, and can put yours in. How much do you own?”
”Acre,” Tusk answered. ”Th' ain't no trick 'bout this?”
”Certainly not. But land up there where you are isn't worth a hundred dollars an acre! What are you trying to put over on us, Tusk?”
”Don't make no difference,” he growled. ”I had a cabin, an' a bed, an blanket; an' stove, too, sech as 'twas!”
”All right,” Brent laughed. ”I'll give you the hunner if you're at Dulany's office Monday.” A hundred was the exact maximum price he and Dulany had decided on offering Potter for that little strip.
”How 'bout Tom's?”
”Tom's?” Brent looked down at him. ”Oh, you just tell Tom to go to h.e.l.l.
That's the place for him.”
”Will I tell the Cunnel's folks to go there, too?” he asked, with unintentional sagacity.
Brent hesitated; then, leaning over the saddle, put an impressive question.
”Tusk, do you want to go to h.e.l.l?”
”Shucks,” he spat contemptuously, ”h.e.l.l ain't got nothin' on a feller like me!”
”Then do you want to go to the penitentiary?”
”Fer Gawd sake,” he sprang back, ”what you mean?”
”Just this: You tell Tom that this blackmail has got to stop! Understand the word?--Blackmail! Let it soak in well, Tusk:--Blackmail! It's a penitentiary offense, and I'll have him up before the next Circuit Court, sure! Or better still,” he declared, growing more and more angry, ”I'll ride back and tell him myself!”
”Naw you don't,” Tusk's hand went quickly to the bridle rein. ”You don't give me the slip that a-way!”
”I'm not trying to give you the slip, you poor fool! You come in town day after tomorrow and get your money. That's all you want!”
”An' that's all you want, too, I reckon. But I ain't goin' nigh no town arter this talk 'bout penitentries. Jest come 'crost with that hund'ed now!”
”I won't do anything to you in town, simpleton!” Brent raged at him.
”That can be settled best by stayin' right heah, I reckon. Hand out the money!”
”I haven't it with me, Tusk. Do what I say and you won't be hurt!”
”That's all right 'bout bein' hurt,” the fellow growled. ”If you ain't got that money with you, I'm goin' to take its wu'th outen yoh hide. You got yoh hide, ain't you?”
For the first time Brent realized he was about to have trouble. The man's size impressed him with no particular awe. He did not think of this. He was aroused now and becoming furious, and as willing for a fight as one well could be. He felt that he had been reasonable enough, even while the man's words were goading him; but, irrespective of this, an act which invariably fires a horseman's anger had been committed--a restraining hand had been put with violence on his bridle rein.
<script>