“Not so bad but what she almost tore me up before I got her home,” Scott replied. And he told the old man what had happened.
“Sounds like Vic. So she was running away from home, was she? She’ll never go back either. I thought something would come of that row yesterday.”
Scott was puzzled. “How is that?” he asked.
“Jim let Foster grab her. She’ll never forgive him for that.”
“I see,” Scott said. “I can’t say that I blame her much, either.”
“Well,” the old man sighed, “it may be wrong to back the girl against her father, but I like Vic and there is no denying she is twice the man Jim is. She is just like her grandfather.”
“I liked him,” Scott exclaimed. “He told me right away last night that he never would give up the feud, but I liked him all the same.”
The old man opened his mouth as though to speak but changed his mind and closed it again. Then after a pause, “Well, stop in when you come down and tell me how Vic is. I’ll be anxious about her.”
Scott hurried on. At the Morgan gate he remembered Mr. Sanders’ advice and shouted before he entered. Old Jarred appeared almost instantly in the doorway. When he saw who it was, he stood the long rifle against the corner beside the door and called to Scott to come in. He met him halfway to the gate with extended hand.
“Come in, sir, come in, sir,” he repeated hospitably. “Vic is a little shy but I reckon she’ll be glad to see you.”