The man inside the cabin having cleared away the dishes and set matters to right, sat down on a bench and began mending his clothes; two others had gone off to look after the horses, which were grazing some distance away among the foothills. Probably they would go on a little hunt before their return. Cal the diminutive rider came out, bringing a stool with him and placed it beside the glum Alden.
“Sorry you feel so bad, my young friend: I had no idea of anything of the kind. Ross never told me of the trouble between you and him.”
“Of course not; he was afraid you would make him stay here till I could see him.”
Cal swung one of his sinewy legs over the other knee, struck a fly crawling several feet away, with a well aimed volley of discolored spittle, and said:
“No; I don’t think it was that; you must remember he was eager to wake you up when he first come to quarters.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t let him do so.”
“So am I, seeing how you feel. What’s your quarrel with him? I liked the fellow first rate, what little I seen of him.”
Alden told of the interrupted fray in St. Joe, when Brandley bumped into him, and instead of apologizing, added insulting words.
“Can’t say that I blame you for being r’iled, but I should like to ask a favor of you.”