“All right, colonel,” he said, gayly. “The quarters are with the young lady at present. We’ll see what she says, when she hears that you vented the rage on your junior officer that you did not dare to show to her, or an equal.”
In a moment Clark strode forward to where the audacious officer stood, with a look of concentrated fury on his face. The backwoods leader possessed a furious temper, which he generally controlled only by exercise of an iron will. For a moment every one in the room thought that he was about to strike the boy down, and big Bill Harrod half-stepped forward to lay hands on his commander.
But, ere the big captain reached him, Clark had controlled his passion by a mighty effort, and spoke in a low, hoarse tone:
“Boy, while this expedition lasts, I command here. When it is over, I’ll give you satisfaction on equal terms. Think yourself lucky that I do not strangle you here. It is but your weakness protects you now. But do not dare again to breathe one word of disrespect toward the lady whom I saw this morning, or I will not answer for my forbearance. I have business. Go.”
He pointed to the door with a trembling finger, his face ashy pale, his eyes glittering dangerously. The little adjutant saluted, gravely, and went to the door.
At the door he turned and said, in a tone of indescribable insolency:
“What a coil, gentlemen, about a little squaw!”
Big Bill Harrod rushed at him with a stifled guffaw, and hustled him off, growling:
“You tarnation sarcy little cuss, d’yer want ter get killed? Cunnel’s madder than twenty wildcats now.”
And indeed the good-natured borderer’s action was the only thing that brought Clark to his senses, for the exasperated chief had already half drawn his sword.