Hardrock laughed. “I’m safe enough.”
“She’s promised.”
“By herself or by you?”
“No matter. Hughie Dunlevy marries her.”
“No.”
Storm grew in Matt’s eyes, and his big black beard bristled.
“Careful, me lad! The boys wanted to come over and have a talk with ye, but I set down me foot. I want no trouble, without ye force it on me. I’ll have no man makin’ light talk of my girl, more particular a stranger.”
“It’s not light talk, Matt; I mean every word of it,” said Hardrock. “And I’m not a good one to bluff, either. You fellows on the Beavers, Matt, are all clannish, and you all stick together like burrs, and you throw a strong bluff. Why? Because you’re all afraid of the big world. Let a better man walk in and whip one or two of you, and things are different. Besides, I have a friend or so if I want to call on ’em, and I’ll be no outcast. So think twice, Matt, before you lay down the law.”
Even while he spoke, Hardrock felt his words fruitless. Matt’s mental horizon was too narrowed to comprehend him in the least.
“You take my advice,” said Matt Big Mary after a moment. “Be out of here before tomorry night, me lad. Ye’ll find a skiff on the shore down to the bay—”