“Aye, lad,” spoke McTavish firmly, “we must make no false moves now. The fight’s on and our new law must be lived up to. If we sin in killin’ them who wish to kill us, why, sin we must. The only brother I had in the world was massacred because he found killin’ a red snake hard. We’ll show no mercy to devils that would try to steal our little girl.”
Boy had drawn the dead dog into the room and was stroking its long red hair with his hand.
“It’s not in reason to think Hallibut ’ud get in his work here and turn back and set fire to his own schooner,” said Paisley. “He’s done it, though, to make a case against us. We can’t deny sayin’ that we’d stand up for our own. They thought if they could get hold of Gloss that we’d give up the deeds to our properties to get her back.”
“Who was in the gang?” asked Boy.
“I only saw two of them when I opened the door,” replied McTavish. “I saw the agent Watson, and I saw Simpson the teacher—he was with ’em.”
He broke off, his jaw dropping. Boy sprang to his feet, his face twitching in a fury of hate. His strong teeth had bitten blood from his tightened lips. He gazed across toward the approaching dawn to where the scar of civilization lay upon the Wild. The two older men glanced at each other and the father shook his head. The question asked in Paisley’s glance was beyond all answering from him.
Not until the red sun had cut a disk in the misty eastern skies did Boy turn and sit down weakly on a stool. Then Paisley was the first to break the gloomy silence.
“Boy,” he said, putting his hands on the shoulders of that drooping form, “me’n you have been through close shaves together; have chopped logs again the two next best choppers in Bushwhackers’ Place; have hunted and fished together. And I reckon we’re pals now if we’re ever goin’ to be. It’s ’cause I’ve been through purty much the same thing as you’re goin’ through now that I want to speak a word. You’ve made up your mind to get even with the teacher. Boy, don’t you do it—not until you’re sure o’ what you may only fancy now. Why, you’d about finish him if you ever got started. Let me help you untangle this riddle, and let me give Simpson his deserts like a good old pal ought to do.”
Boy shook his head.
“Bill,” he said in hard, even tones, “you’ve a mighty big claim on me. I know that better’n you do. You know that I’d follow any advice of yours in reason, same’s I’ve always done. I’ll promise to do this much. I’ll let you find for sure that he was with the gang before I do it; but it’s got to be done by me, Bill.”