“Have an end with such jests,” said his friend impatiently, “or I will begin to suspect that you do not believe what you have just been telling me.”
“Well, we will drop it,” said Freeman, shaking out the ashes of his pipe and refilling it; “I can only repeat my thanks for your arguments which prevented me from pulling up stakes last spring and leaving the country for good.”
“I may have been a trifle selfish about it, for I didn’t wish to lose a good neighbor, with whom I could sit down and fight over our old battles with out either of us losing our temper. Since I admit that all the bravery during the war was on your side and you have graciously conceded that there wasn’t a bit except on mine, why the dispute has never become serious.”
“Well,” remarked the visitor some time later, “the night is wearing on and I will go home. Where is Fulton?” he asked, looking around as he rose to his feet.
“Your little boy ran off half an hour ago. My youngster wanted him to stay all night, but Fulton said it was Jack’s turn to stay with him and he wouldn’t.”
“Why didn’t you let Jack do so?”
“His mother thought he had better wait until to-morrow.”
“Good-night,” called Freeman to his neighbor, who responded, and remained at the front smoking for an hour or more after his departure.
It was not a long walk to the home of Maurice Freeman. When he reached there, he found it later than he suspected, for his little boy and girl had been put to bed and were asleep.
The husband announced that he expected to visit the fort next day, and at his request his wife named a few small articles for him to obtain for her. The journey to Phœnix or Prescott was so much longer, that neither Freeman nor Murray went thither except when necessary. The ride to Fort Reno, ten miles away, could be easily made within the day and allow a good call at the post.