Sewall was home and glad to see him. Scott told him what Foster had done in the morning and how he was continually hanging around the camp.
Sewall only shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t know what it is, but he is up to something. He has avoided me for a month. I don’t like the way he is chumming with some of the wilder of the young fellows. My boys don’t like him any better than I do, and they have tried to find out what he is doing but they can’t. I know his game but I can’t figure out his next move.”
“Just what is his game?” Scott asked anxiously.
“He knows that the family has pretty much lost confidence in him as a leader, and he thinks that if he starts some trouble they will have to support him. That much is clear enough, but I can’t see how he can gain anything by jimming your logging job.”
“I thought that was probably just revenge for the thrashing I gave him,” Scott said. “If that’s all it is I am not worried, for he can’t do very much harm, but I was afraid there might be something else back of it.”
Sewall shook his head. “He is too big a coward to risk very much just for revenge. To shoot you in the back would be more like his methods. He beat up poor Hopwood the other day. That’s about his size,” he added bitterly.
“That is what I really came up for,” Scott exclaimed quickly. “To find out whether you knew anything about Hopwood. I have not seen him for three or four days.”
“I saw him this morning. Foster went after him with a club day before yesterday, and if it had not been for that old iron hat I think he would have killed him.”
“The big bully. What was it about?” Scott asked eagerly.
“He would not tell me, but I thought from the way he talked that it had something to do with you.”