“Seen Carrington?”
“Why, yes.” Norton peered closely at his friend. “What in blazes is wrong?” His thoughts went to another time, when he had seen Taylor as he appeared now, and he drew a deep breath.
Briefly Taylor told him, and when the tale was ended, Norton’s eyes were blazing with indignation.
“So, that’s the kind of a whelp he is!” he said. “Well,” he added, “I saw him go out on the river trail a while ago; it’s likely he’s gone to the Huggins house.”
“His—now,” said Taylor; “that’s what makes it worse. Well,” he added as he stepped toward the door, “I’ll be going.”
“Be careful, Squint,” warned Norton, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I know you can lick him—and I hope you give him all that’s coming to him. But watch him—he’s tricky!” He paused. “If you need any help—someone to go with you, to keep an eye——”
“It’s a one-man job,” grinned Taylor mirthlessly.
“You’ll promise you won’t be thinking of that ankle—this time?” said Norton seriously.
Taylor permitted himself a faint smile. “That’s all explained now,” he said. “She’s been a lot generous—and forgiving. No,” he added, “I won’t be thinking of that ankle—now!”
And then, his lips setting again, he crossed the sidewalk, mounted Spotted Tail, and rode through town to the river trail. Watching him, Norton saw him disappear in some timber that fringed the river.