"You're a good one, you are," he said sarcastically. "I should
think you'd be ashamed to call yourself an American."
"What do you mean?" asked Strong in a trembling voice.
"Why, first of all, stealing from the bank, and then selling your
own countrymen to the Mexicans."
"Who have I sold?"
"Do you mean to say that you didn't sell Gen. Funston to the
greasers for ten thousand dollars?"
"Of course I do!" in a somewhat stronger voice.
"Perhaps you'll deny that you are Strong, the mountebank. You
don't think for one minute that I don't know you in spite of your
make-up, do you?"
"No, I'll admit that I'm the mountebank. As for my name that is
of small importance in a country like this. But I did not sell
Gen. Funston, as you put it. I knew the man I pointed out was not
Funston and I knew that as soon as the Mexicans found it out they
would let him go. Some one might have told them rightly. As it
was I spoiled their game and I got the money. Do you think it any
crime to do that?"
"That's a matter I am not in a position to discuss," was Billie's
answer. "But how about robbing the bank?"
"I had as much right to the box as any one."
"You'll have to prove that to some one besides me; all I can do
is to turn you over to the authorities.
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