“Well, it doesn’t matter so much what you think. It is up to me to decide and if I say fight, you will have to fight,” and he swaggered off down the trail up which Scott had come.
Sewall looked after him contemptuously for a moment, shrugged his shoulders, and turned into a faint trail which led straight down the mountain.
When they were both out of sight Scott came out of his hiding place. He decided to investigate the trail at some other time, and climbed back to the ridge. What he had just heard gave him something to think about. He knew now that there was nothing neutral about him. His sympathies were all with old Jarred and he hurried home to warn him of his danger.
CHAPTER XVI
SCOTT HAS AN INTERVIEW WITH SEWALL
The next day Scott was still worrying over what he had overheard on the mountain the evening before. He did not know what to do. At first he had determined to carry a warning straight to old Jarred Morgan, but what good would that do? Jarred could not stop the Waits from starting a fight even if he tried, and no one had ever heard of his trying.
He wanted to see Hopwood and ask his advice but for once Hopwood did not show up when he was wanted. He wasted all the forenoon watching for him. Then he suddenly remembered what Hopwood had said about Sewall being the real leader of the Waits and determined to go and see him at once. He had two reasons for going. He wanted to see where he stood on the question of the feud, and he wanted to know if it was he who was talking to Foster the day before.
Immediately after lunch he started for the cabin which the agent pointed out to him as a speck up on the mountainside. On the way up he saw Foster approaching on his white horse, but Foster evidently did not care to meet the man who had given him such a thrashing and turned off into the woods. He had his rifle with him and Scott did not feel comfortable till he was well past the spot. He half expected to hear a shot and had an uncomfortable feeling that some one was aiming at a spot between his shoulder blades.
When he came in sight of the cabin he was surprised at its appearance. All the Wait cabins he had seen were slovenly and seedy-looking, as though no one had taken any interest whatever in them since they were first built. This one was very different. The inevitable picket fence, which Scott had now learned was to keep out the wandering razorbacks, was neatly whitewashed. The house was newly painted and the roof had recently been shingled. There was real sod in the yard and there was a bed of gorgeous flowers beside the porch.
Scott stopped at the gate and shouted. A middle-aged woman came to the door and looked surprised at the sight of a stranger. Scott’s surprise was even greater. Instead of the regulation Mother Hubbard which all the women in that country seemed to wear, this woman was neatly dressed in a blue house dress and a white apron. She quickly recovered from her surprise and smiled pleasantly.
“Won’t you come in?” she said sweetly. “This is one house,” she explained, “where you don’t have to stand outside and shout.”