Claiborne had watched Armitage with a growing impatience; he resented the
idea of being thus ignored; then he put his hand roughly on Armitage's
shoulder.
Armitage, intent with his own affairs, had not looked at Claiborne for
several minutes, but he glanced at him now as though just recalling a
duty.
"Lord, man! I didn't mean to throw you into the road! There's a clean bed
in there that you're welcome to--go in and get some sleep."
"I'm not going into the valley," roared Claiborne, "and I'm not going to
bed; I'm going with you, damn you!"
"But bless your soul, man, you can't go with me; you are as ignorant as a
babe of my affairs, and I'm terribly busy and have no time to talk to
you. Oscar, that coffee scalded me. Claiborne, if only I had time, you
know, but under existing circumstances--"
"I repeat that I'm going with you. I don't know why I'm in this row, and
I don't know what it's all about, but I believe what you say about it;
and I want you to understand that I can't be put in a bag like a prize
potato without taking a whack at the man who put me there."
"But if you should get hurt, Claiborne, it would spoil my plans.
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