He started a few steps down the road, hesitated, and came back.
“Houston, there’s one thing I want to say to you, for you’ve been good to me, that’s this; look out for Haight; he’s no friend of yours, and I guess you’re sharp enough to know it, but maybe you don’t know what a sneaking, cowardly cur he is; look out for him!”
“Thank you, Morgan, I will.”
“He ain’t like me,” he continued, “if I don’t like anybody I let ’em know it, and fight ’em fair and square; you can tell that by the way I bucked up against you, when you first came here,” and he smiled at the recollection, the first time he had smiled in the whole conversation.
“Morgan,” said Houston, “I’ve been sorry for that a good many times since; if I had known about you then what you have since told me, I never would have been so severe in my judgment of you.”
“Oh, that was all right,” he answered, “it did me good; I didn’t like you very well at first, but I’ve always had a liking for you ever since. Well, so long!” and with a faint smile, Morgan went on his way.
Houston stood watching him for a few moments, then turned back in the direction of the house, little thinking how, or where, they would meet again.