The problem remained unanswered, though he ran a hand repeatedly through his thick hair and frowned down at the body.
“If I could only have hit you harder, maybe you’d die of a broken neck,” he mused. “I’ve known such things to happen. But I did the best I could, and you’ll live just the same. The devil takes care of his own, anyway.”
Slowly he turned and walked to his pack. Deliberately he got into the straps, wincing as the injured shoulder came under pressure.
“Must wash that place well when I reach the creek,” he muttered, “or I’ll get blood-poisoning. Guess a complete bath wouldn’t be inappropriate.”
He settled the pack, gripped his gun, stepped to the edge of the brush, and picked up his hat. Then he looked again at the silent Snake.
“On the whole, I think I have a good deal the best of it,” he declared. “Your little copperhead trick did me no harm, and I know a lot more now than if you hadn’t tried it. Yes, a whole lot. As for damages to our respective complexions and temperaments, I’m no worse off than you; and in the matter of general condition you’re certainly much worse than I. So we’ll call it quits—for the present.”
He plodded away. But after a few steps he looked back with a hard smile.
“Besides,” he concluded, “I was forgetting. Our young friend Steve has some business to settle with you. His account is three years old—maybe more—and mine has only just begun. So you’re Steve’s meat, Snake. Steve’s meat.”
CHAPTER VII
A MAN MEETS A MAN
Along the Clove road plodded a man with a battered face and a torn shirt, toting a pack and a gun. The face was not so much disfigured as it had been awhile ago, for it had just been laved in the cold, clear water of Coxing Kill; but it still bore obvious marks of conflict, chief of which was a pair of puffy eyes ringed by darkening discolorations. The rent shirt gaped at every stride, disregarded by its wearer, who swung along as if careless of the opinions of others. Judging from his gait, he knew where he was going and purposed to reach his destination before early sundown should cut off the light from his ridge-flanked road.