"I ought to have put it up to you differently, I guess, and saved my breath," said Burton in disgust. "You're just a hulk of bone and muscle and your head's wood. You can lift a timber and swing a pick or axe because you've got the strength. But that's all you know, or all you're good for!"
The cool contempt in Burton's voice stung Munford more than the words themselves.
"Is that so!" he snarled, resorting to his favorite habit of blowing on his knuckles. "I'd show you fast enough what I'm good for, you runt, if you was a little bigger!"
"Maybe you'll find I'm big enough one of these days," said Burton, sharply. "Now I'll put it to you straight so that you'll understand. I'll show you whether I can stop the gang going to Big Cloud or not. No man rides on the construction trains after to-day without a pass signed by me. That's orders! If the men don't like it, you can tell them it's your fault. The next row in Big Cloud wouldn't stop at fists. And as for you, you wouldn't come out of it alive."
"You needn't worry about me," sneered Munford. "I'm"
"You're a fool! The thickest-headed, trouble-hunting fool it's ever been my cursed luck to run against!" exclaimed Burton angrily.
Munford brushed his great shock of hair out of his eyes with a nervous sweep of his hand. "I ain't ever before taken the back talk from any man that I've taken from you—without hurtin' him," he said thickly,
