He had not
gone ten steps from the stable when he met Good Indian face to
face.
"Hullo," he growled, stopping short and eying him malevolently
with lowered head.
Good Indian's lips curled silently, and he stepped aside to
pursue his way. Baumberger swung his huge body toward him.
"I said HULLO. Nothin' wrong in that, is there? HULLO--d'yuh
hear?"
"Go to the devil!" said Grant shortly.
Baumberger leered at him offensively. "Pretty Polly! Never
learned but one set uh words in his life. Can't yuh say anything
but 'Go to the devil!' when a man speaks to yuh? Hey?"
"I could say a whole lot that you wouldn't be particularly glad
to hear." Good Indian stopped, and faced him, coldly angry. For
one thing, he knew that Evadna was waiting on the porch for him,
and could see even if she could not hear; and Baumberger's
attitude was insulting. "I think," he said meaningly, "I
wouldn't press the point if I were you."
"Giving me advice, hey? And who the devil are you?"
"I wouldn't ask, if I were you.
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