Hallibut looked at him, an expression of disgust on his face.
“Yes, but not the kind of woman you know. This one was my sister.”
“Just so,” smirked the grocer; and then he whispered again, “just so.”
“Did you or Watson tell the Bushwhackers what I intend to do with the boat?” asked Hallibut after a little time had elapsed.
“Yes, and they say that as soon as you try and put your schooner up Lee Creek there will be trouble. They told Watson to tell you so,” said Smythe.
“So they warn me, eh?”
Hallibut left his chair and paced up and down the floor.
Smythe sat with a smile of satisfaction on his weasel-like face.
“Of course, they can’t stop you from entering the harbor and sailing across Rond Eau; neither can they prevent you from sailing up the creek. But,” he added impressively, “they can burn your boat.”
“Don’t talk foolishness,” cried Hallibut. “They aren’t quite crazy. If they tried anything like that on with me, I’d wipe ’em out; you hear me—wipe the whole bunch of ’em out.”