I don't know whether I changed color or not. But I could feel a wave of blind rage sweep right through me, from top to toe, and I did my best to wither that woman with a look. If I wasn't altogether successful in this, it must have been because of the beefsteak bandage.
"Roping it down?" I repeated, feeling that my nerves were at last getting the better of me. "Well, the whole lot of you can take it from me that I'm going to get out of it now, and get out of it for good. For I say again that I'm tired of it, and tired of everybody in it. I'm tired of being carted around and being man-hauled and being made a catspaw of. I'm tired of being lied to. I'm tired of crooks and cowards, and if from this day, there's any way of getting through life without linking up with that breed, I'm going to find it!"
My voice was unsteady, and a little shrill from excitement, I suppose, but it didn't seem to have the electrifying effect I had looked for.
All it did, in fact, was to bring a sudden and quite unlooked-for exclamation from Wendy Washburn.
"Clear out of here, the whole pack of you!" he coolly commanded, "for I want to talk to this young lady!"
