Penrod's face had flushed with indignation.
"You look here, Sam," he began hotly. "Didn't you hear Roddy say this was his horn?"
"He said it!" Sam declared. "He said it a million times!"
"Well, and didn't he sell this horn to me?"
"Yes, SIR!"
"Didn't I pay him money cash down for it?"
"Two dollars!"
"Well, and ain't it my horn now, Sam?"
"You bet you!"
"YES, sir!" Penrod went on with vigour. "It's my horn now whether it belonged to you or not, Roddy, because you SOLD it to me and I paid my good ole money for it. I guess a thing belongs to th`, person that paid their own money for it, doesn't it? _I_ don't haf to give up my own propaty, even if you did come on over here and told us a big l--"
"_I_ NEVER!" shouted Roddy. "It was my horn, too, and I didn't tell any such a thing!" He paused; then, reverting to his former manner, said stubbornly, "I got to have that horn back. I GOT to!"
"Why'n't you tell us what FOR, then?" Sam insisted.
Roddy's glance at this persecutor was one of anguish.
"I know my own biz'nuss!" he muttered.
And while Sam jeered, Roddy turned to Penrod desperately.
"You gimme that horn back! I got to have it."
But Penrod followed Sam's lead.
"Well, why can't you tell us what FOR?" he asked.
Perhaps if Sam had not been there, Roddy could have unbosomed himself. He had no doubt of his own virtue in this affair, and he was conscious that he had acted in good faith throughout--though, perhaps, a little impulsively. But he was in a predicament, and he knew that if he became more explicit, Sam could establish with undeniable logic those rights about which he had been so odious the day before. Such triumph for Sam was not within Roddy's power to contemplate; he felt that he would rather die, or sumpthing.
"I got to have that horn!" he reiterated woodenly.
Penrod had no intention to humour this preposterous boy, and it was only out of curiosity that he asked, "Well, if you want the horn back, where's the two dollars?"