But the fight was over.
“I knew that I ought to have apologized in the first place,” the man said with a winning smile, “I was dead wrong and knew it, but I could not resist the temptation to take you on. I acted like a sucker. You knocked me down and the honor is yours. You may think I am yellow for quitting now but the altitude is getting your wind. The old duellers usually stopped at the first blood. I acknowledge myself in the wrong, apologize for all my rudeness and would like to shake hands if you will let me.”
Scott grasped his hand eagerly. “I kind of thought you felt that way,” he said, “when you hesitated in the first place. Perhaps I was a little quick on the trigger, but I have had that graft business thrown at me so often that I could not stand it any longer.”
“Don’t blame you a bit. You are a new man and not responsible for your predecessors. Wonder you did not jump me when I insulted you the first time. There was no reason why I should not have responded decently to your introduction, no matter what I may have thought of you. My name is Baxter, Yale ’12.”
“Well, I am mighty glad to know that there is a white man so close to me here,” Scott said earnestly, “for there is something rotten going on in my district and I need some help.”
“There certainly has been something rotten in your district in the past,” Baxter agreed, “and I’ll be mighty glad to help you. Let’s eat lunch here under this tree and talk it over.”
So the two pugilists sat down on the sunny slope and ate lunch together like long lost brothers.
CHAPTER VIII
A LITTLE DETECTIVE WORK
“How long have you been on the job?” Baxter asked between bites.