Bela tried to answer him, and could not. Her iron will was no longer able to hide the evidences of agitation. Her lips were parted and her breath was coming fast. She kept her eyes down.
There was a highly charged silence in the shack. All knew that the turn of the drama depended on the next word to be spoken. They watched Bela, bright-eyed.
By this time Joe had partly recovered his self-possession. "Let him go!" he said roughly. "We don't want no cooks around!"
Sam ignored him. "Can I stay?" he asked Bela, smiling with a peculiar hardness. "If you don't want me, all right. But it must come from you."
Bela raised her eyes imploringly to him and let them fall again.
"Ah, tell him to go before he's thrown out!" cried Joe.
That settled it. Bela's head went up with a jerk, and her eyes flashed savagely at Joe. To Sam she said clearly: "Come in, my house is open to all."
Bela glared at Joe, defying him to do his worst. Joe refused her challenge. His eyes bolted. He scowled and muttered under his breath.
Sam, taking in the situation, walked quickly to Bela's place, and picking up the box sat on it, and smiled directly into Joe's discomfited face.
That move won him more than one friend in the shack. Young Coulson's eyes sparkled with admiration. Big Jack frowned at Sam, divided between old resentment and new respect.
"Seems you weren't expecting me this evening," he said quietly. "I wouldn't have missed it for a lot. Heard there was going to be something special doing. How about it, Joe?"
Joe was no match for him at this kind of game. He looked away, muttering.
"What's on, boys?" asked Sam. "Vaudeville or parlour charades?"
He won a hearty laugh by it, and once more Joe felt the situation slipping away from him. Finally he thought of a way of getting back at Sam.
"Bela!" he cried roughly. "You bring another box and sit down here."
Sam stared, genuinely amazed at his tone.
"There is no room," said Bela in a wooden voice.
"You bring over a box!" cried Joe peremptorily.
Sam's face was grim. "My friend, that's no way to speak to a lady," he said softly.
This was the kind of opening Joe wanted. "What the hell is it to you?" he shouted.
"A man, no; but plenty good enough for a--cook!"
At Sam's elbow was a cup with tea-dregs in the bottom. He picked it up with a casual air and tossed the contents into Joe's face.