"Neither," she murmured. "He fought Tusk Potter, but I'm sure it's no worse than a blow on the head as he fell."
"My word! My word!" the old gentleman exploded. "I've always been concerned about your permitting that half-witted outlaw to come here! Where is he now?" He glared into the dark corners with the light of battle in his eyes.
The unconscious man mumbled and stirred, moving as one asleep will sometimes shift to a more comfortable position. Bob, already by him on the floor, looked up, saying:
"He's coming about all right. What shall we do, Colonel?"
"Leave him down the road," the Colonel snapped. "Tom Hewlet's house'll be good enough, and I'll pay the rascal's niece to nurse him, if he requires it. Why did they fight?" He turned abruptly to Jane.
"He—he resented something Tusk said."
"Something Tusk said to you?" The old warrior looked more ferocious than ever.
She nodded.
The Colonel's jaws came together with a snap. "By God, sir," he exclaimed to Bob, "we'll take him home, sir! He shall have the best room in Arden, sir, and all the doctors in the county! No gentleman can defend you, my dear," he took her hand, "and be left at run-down hovels on the roadside. The very suggestion, sir," he turned his frowning brows again on Bob, "is unworthy, sir!"
The young planter burst into a spontaneous laugh.