The man smiled grimly. “Well, young woman, I have just this piece of advice to give you. Go back where you came from. You will have to stay here to-night, but to-morrow I’ll drive you to Mayo, and you and your father can travel back east the best way you can get there. I don’t often give away anything for nothing, but I’m going to give this advice free, and you’d better take it if you know what is good for you.”
“And if I don’t take it?”
“Then you’ll have to take the consequences, which will not be pleasant.”
Agnes shook her head, but stood considering before she spoke again. “There is not a thing to be afraid of,” she told herself. “I don’t know why this man is trying to scare me, but one thing I do know, and that is that there is no reason why we should give up our rights. I should think my father ought to know what belongs to us and what doesn’t.”—“Now,” turning to the man, “who are you, that you insist upon staying on this place which you know does not belong to you?”
The man drew himself up to his full height. He towered above the girl and looked down at her with an expression of bitter resentment. “My name is Humphrey Muirhead,” he said. “I am your grandfather’s eldest child.”
Agnes started back as this announcement was made, her first feeling being one of sharp indignation. “No, no,” she cried, “I cannot believe you.”
The man smiled sardonically but gave no reply. “No,” continued Agnes, excitedly; “it is not true. You may have fooled your neighbors and have pretended to them that you are a son of Humphrey Muirhead, but I surely should know. Why, I have seen the family Bible with my own eyes and have read the records—my grandfather’s marriage and my mother’s birth. It is out of the question for you to be my mother’s brother. You are assuming my grandfather’s name for the purpose of holding this property. I say you are not Humphrey Muirhead.”
“It ain’t worth while to get so worked up,” said the man, slowly, “and it ain’t worth while to call names. I’m no impostor. People around here know that. Ask Dod Hunter; he knew your grandfather; he knew, too, when he came out here, and that he married my mother straight and honest. I am the first-born, not your mother.”
Agnes paled before this statement. “No, no,” she still protested.
“Yes,” emphatically declared the man. “I won’t go into particulars; they’re not pleasant. Both of ’em are dead now. Anyhow, he was a young fellow, not more than eighteen, and she was the daughter of a backwoodsman, pretty fiery, wouldn’t stand being driven, didn’t like your grandfather’s perticuler ways, and at last she run off and left him. I was a couple of years old then. Your grandfather saw me just once after thet. I found him out, but we didn’t hit it off. I’ve got a temper like my mother’s and I did some big talking, so he ordered me out of the house and—” The man paused and clenched his fist, “I’m his son for all that, and I’ll have my rights.”