“Ross Brandley, Sir,—I did not recognize you when you called last night with Mr. Chadwick. Had I known at the time who you were (my colored servant told me afterward), you would have heard some plain words from me, though coming as our guest, I should have treated you with politeness which probably you would not have appreciated. Fearing that a similar restraint may be upon you when I return the call, I hand you this note.
“I ask you to ride after me as I return, until I reach a point midway between our camps. I shall wait there for you. We shall then be upon neutral ground and I challenge you to a finish fight with fists as weapons. This would have been the case in St. Joe had not your relative, fearing you would suffer harm, carried you away, though it was plain to me that he did not have much trouble in getting you beyond my reach.
“Alden Payne.”
Alden read this belligerent message and smiled. He was pleased with it.
“Those last words will hit him hard. A fellow would rather be called anything than a coward. I can’t say he showed any sign of wishing to sneak out, and when I remark that his uncle didn’t have any trouble in lugging him off, I suppose I exaggerate, but I want to make sure the scamp doesn’t find an excuse for dodging a square, stand up fight. I don’t think I can improve the letter.”
He folded the paper and wrote the name of Brandley on the outside, after which he placed the slip between the pages of his note book which was shoved into the inner pocket of his coat. Without consulting the women around him or letting them know what was in the wind, he sprang out of the wagon to the ground.
A few minutes later the halt for the night was made. Alden told Jethro he intended to visit the camp in front and wished him to go along.
“I ’spose you’ll wait till after supper?” inquired the servant.
“Of course; I know how much it would hurt you to miss a meal.”
“I’m allers ready to take keer ob you, Al,” remarked the servant in an aggrieved voice.