The elder Chase came into the room, one stiff step; and he looked at Wint, and at B. B., and at Amos. His lips twitched a little at sight of Amos, then set firmly together again. That was all.
Wint moved toward him a little. “Dad....” he said huskily.
His father’s eyes searched Wint’s. The older man’s voice was shaking. He said slowly: “Routt is telling Hardiston you are drunk, down here.”
Wint nodded. “Yes; I’d heard.”
“I heard him telling men this thing.”
Wint said nothing; the older man’s face lighted fiercely. “I knew he lied, Wint. I knew he lied.”
Wint flushed with the sudden rush of happiness within him. He looked from his father to Amos. “Dad,” he said, “there’s one thing. I know my friends now.”
“Routt is no friend.”
“I know.”
“I always told you.”