His voice was so sharp and insistent, so changed, that Buckmaster turned from the doorway and came back into the room.
“What’s the use of my hearin’? You want me not to kill Greevy, because of that gal. What’s she to me?”
“Nothing to you, Buck, but Clint was everything to her.”
The mountaineer stood like one petrified.
“What’s that—what’s that you say? It’s a damn lie!”
“It wasn’t cards—the quarrel, not the real quarrel. Greevy found Clint kissing her. Greevy wanted her to marry Gatineau, the lumber-king. That was the quarrel.”
A snarl was on the face of Buckmaster. “Then she’ll not be sorry when I git him. It took Clint from her as well as from me.” He turned to the door again.
“But, wait, Buck, wait one minute and hear—”
He was interrupted by a low, exultant growl, and he saw Buckmaster’s rifle clutched as a hunter, stooping, clutches his gun to fire on his prey.
“Quick, the spy-glass!” he flung back at Sinnet. “It’s him, but I’ll make sure.”