“She seemed anything but glad to see me when I picked her up last night,” Scott laughed. “I thought she was going to tear me up before I could get her home.”
Old Jarred chuckled. “Vic’s a fighter, she is. You see she had heard that rumor about the logging contract and she hates the Waits worse than I do. She feels right ashamed of herself this morning.”
“Well, she needn’t,” Scott said. “I understood why it was and admired her nerve.”
“If the Morgan men had half Vic’s nerve this feud might end,” old Jarred remarked bitterly.
“Why not drop it, anyway?” Scott asked. “I’ll wager there is not one of your worst enemies who would not admit that you did not do it because you were afraid. It seems such a pity to have it go on. It can end in only one way some day.”
Old Jarred stopped in the doorway and looked at him for a moment. Scott had not intended to broach the subject so suddenly and he half expected a burst of anger, but it did not come.
“Yes,” the old man answered sadly, “it can have only one ending. They will get me some day. But as I told you last night I shall never give it up; so let’s not discuss it.” He saw the disappointment in Scott’s face and laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry, my boy, for I know that you mean well. I suppose it does look to you like a wholly unreasonable thing, but you don’t know all the story. You are asking something that it is utterly impossible for me to do. So it is better to drop it.”
Scott could not hide his disappointment but he bowed his respect for the old man’s request. “I hope Vic was not badly hurt last night?” he asked.
Jarred smiled his gratitude. “No, no. Sprained her knee a little, but she is hobbling around this morning and will be all right in a day or so.”
The cabin into which Jarred led the way was a plain oblong structure built of logs. There was but one room which served as bedroom, dining room, living room and kitchen, but it was clean and everything seemed to be in order.