“No, to-night; right away.”
“Nonsense, it is very late; wait until to-morrow.”
“I can’t do it; I’m mad clear through; I’m off!”
He started toward the opening, but Tom sprang up and caught his arm.
“If you are bent on going take your weapons with you. There’s no telling how badly you’ll need ’em.”
“No; I don’t intend to shoot anybody, but I mean to give that fellow the biggest whipping of his life.”
“How are you going to manage it?”
“I can’t stop to explain. I’ll tell you when I come back;” and, without saying anything more, the wrathful Ranger strode toward the mill-pond, where he took the main path leading to the highway. As he saw the gleam of the water he shuddered to recall how near he came to death; but his evil nature had no room at that time for the sweet, tender emotions that should have filled him.
At the moment of leaving camp he had fixed upon no clear method of procedure, and he gave his meditations now to the best plan for punishing his preserver.
“It’s easy enough,” he added, after walking a short way; “I’ll go to the door and knock, and if it isn’t young Halliard that opens it, I’ll ask for him, saying I must see him on something important. Then, when I get him outside, I’ll jump on him. I can do him up before anybody comes to his help. If he’s the first one to show himself, it’ll be all the better.”