Vic appeared in the doorway and called to him. “You must find out what that is, Hopwood. Are they fighting us or the logging camp?”
Hopwood started as though he had been awakened from a dream. With a wave of the hand to Vic he vaulted the fence and ran down the slope. When he came to the railroad track he hesitated a moment and then turned up the track toward the village.
He found Mr. Roberts sitting on the end of the station platform watching the fight as calmly as though watching a game from a grand stand.
“Just what happened?” Hopwood asked.
Shots were still being fired spasmodically from both sides of the street.
“Foster rode up to the store like a madman and shot across at Morgan’s wife without any warning,” Mr. Roberts replied, without taking his eyes off the fight.
“Did he hit her?” Hopwood asked with a hard unnatural ring in his voice.
“Couldn’t miss her, just across the street,” Mr. Roberts replied.
A cold steely glint came into Hopwood’s soft blue eyes and his jaw set tight. “Kill her?” he persisted.
“Couldn’t tell,” Mr. Roberts replied calmly. “They hauled her inside.”