Scott’s blood boiled at the tone and wording of the question. He did not dare look at the man and it almost choked him to answer calmly, “Not to-day.”
“Well, to-morrow will do,” the man called insolently. “You can find me home most any day.” And the others laughed at the retort.
Scott saw red for a minute and half turned, but he caught himself in time. He would not make much headway in handling this timber sale if he began with a fight in the public road on a somewhat doubtful pretext. If he did fight he ought to have a little better cause than that.
He did not meet any more of the offensive Waits and was beginning to cool off a little so that he could think calmly. Suddenly he stopped with a jerk and turned his startled gaze down the road in the direction all the bands had been traveling. What would be the outcome of this meeting in the village? He had met twelve men on the road and he had noticed eight more at the store when he came by. They were all armed and most likely there would be much drinking. Would they take this opportunity to wipe out the remnant of the Morgans?
He had never seen old Jarred Morgan nor had he ever spoken to any of the family, but right now his sympathy was with them. The picture which old man Sanders had drawn of that lonely old man and a slip of a girl holding the Morgan fort almost alone appealed to him. But what could they do against a gang of twenty? No matter how brave they were, they would be helpless.
Scott’s sense of fair play sent his fighting blood bounding through his veins. He turned resolutely and hurried down the mountain. He thought that he might be able to prevent that crime. He would help to protect that plucky pair if he possibly could, and he would not care what anybody thought about it. He did not admit it to himself, but probably the greatest incentive was the opportunity to fight these insolent Waits. He hurried on without a thought of the possible effects it might have on his plans. Every minute he half expected to hear the shot which would announce the beginning of the fight.
When he came out of the forest at the foot of the mountain, he was relieved to see that everything looked peaceful in the village. The station agent saw him coming and lounged out to the end of the platform to meet him.
“Well, they are all in town to celebrate,” he drawled.
“I guess they are, judging from the procession I met coming down the mountain,” Scott growled bitterly. “Do you think there will be any trouble?”
The agent looked at him curiously. “Oh, I don’t believe they will bother you any now. They think that you are their friend.”