"What, me?" exclaimed the other, once more showing signs of anger, and drawing Billy away from Fred as if the sight of them close together was unpleasant to him; "not in a thousand years. That would mean I'd have to knuckle down, and crawl before the mighty Fred Fenton, like some of the other ninnies do. You go your way, and I'll go mine. We've always been enemies, and that's what we'll be to the end of the chapter."
The old vindictive part in Buck's nature had apparently still a firm grip on him. Fred no longer offered his hand. If the other chose to call it square, he must be satisfied, and accept things as they came.
"All the same," he said, positively; "I'm obliged to you, Buck, for helping me out. You've saved me from a bad time. And I'm going to tell about it too, whether you want me to or not. Some of the good people in Riverport will believe they've been wrong when they thought you wouldn't lift a hand to do a single decent thing."
"Oh! rats, don't give me any of that sort of taffy, Fenton!" exclaimed the other in a disgusted voice. "And I'll see to it that they don't believe I'm working the reformed son racket, either. I did this—well—just because I had to, that's all, and not because I wanted to. If Billy hadn't been along, and told what he did, you'd 'a spent your night in that hole, for all of me; understand?"
"Well, just as you will, Buck. Have it as you want. Billy, I'm obliged to you for standing up for me like you did. It was a lucky day for me, as well as for you, when I chanced to get you out of the Mohunk."
"Oh! come along, Billy," Buck called out, pulling at the sleeve of his younger brother; "we've got no more time to waste here, jawing. Right now I'm some twisted in my bearings, and we might have a tough time gettin' to that farmhouse."
Fred took it for granted that Buck was heading in a roundabout way for the home of Arnold Masterson; the same place where he and Bristles had saved Sarah, the sick farmer's daughter, from the well, into which she had fallen when trying to hide from the three rough tramps.
He was on the point of directing Buck, so that the other might reach his destination, when something within seemed to bid him hold his tongue. Arnold Masterson was not friendly with his rich uncle, Squire Lemington. He had been worsted by the latter in some land deal, and would not even come to Riverport to trade. Perhaps Buck knew something about this, and it may have influenced him when running away from home, with Billy in his company.
He saw the two go off, Buck talking in low tones to his brother. Once Billy insisted on turning, and waving his hand toward Fred; though Buck immediately gave him a rough whirl, as though to make him understand that he would not allow of any more friendly feelings between his younger brother and the fellow he chose to look upon as his worst enemy.
"Well, it's too bad Buck feels that way," Fred said to himself, as he turned his back on the hole that had given him such an unpleasant half hour. "But just as he says, the score is even now, and the slate cleaned off. We can start fresh; and chances are, he'll find a way of trying to get a dig at me before many suns. But I'm lucky to get out of that scrape as I did. Whew! what if I just had to stay there? Makes me shiver to think of it."