“Yes.” Routt hesitated, as though confused. “I—we—I’m going up to get a prescription filled.”
Wint laughed. “For snake bite?”
“Oh, no. A real prescription.”
Jack protested. “Sure. So—good night.”
Wint thrust his arm through the other’s. “What do you want to get rid of me for? I’ll walk up with you.”
Jack balked. “Oh, now, Wint—you—your father will be down on you. You ought to cut it out, Wint. There’s nothing in it for you. You never know when to stop!”
Wint stiffened sulkily, but his voice was gentle. “That’s tough! Too bad about me! And it’s a shame what dad will do to me, now isn’t it?” He took a step forward. “Coming, Jack?”
So they departed together.
At daylight, the elder Chase, arising early to go to the polls, met Routt. Jack was homeward bound; and he was a weary young man. Wint was not with him. They exchanged greetings, but no more.