“Why don’t you go?” he thundered, and pointed to the saws and axes. “Take those—things along with you.”
None of them moved except Lyle who stepped forward a pace or two.
“There is a little more to be said, sir. You have refused your sanction, but bearing in mind a clause or two in the charter of the settlement I’m not quite sure it’s necessary. In one sense Green Mountain is not exactly yours.”
“Not mine!” and Carrington stared at him in incredulous astonishment. Then he seemed to recover himself and smiled in an unpleasant fashion. “Ah,” he said, “you have been reading the charter, but there are several points that evidently you have missed. For one thing, it vests practically complete authority in me, and my decision as to any changes or the disposal of any of the Carrington land can only be questioned by a three-fourths majority of a general assembly. I have not heard that you have submitted the matter to such a meeting.”
“I have not done so, sir,” answered Lyle.
There was, I thought, still a faint chance of a compromise, but Carrington flung it away.
“Then,” he said, “I choose to exert my authority, and I think that I have already told you to leave Green Mountain.”
Lyle apparently recognized that the Colonel had the best of it on what one might call a point of law, but the way the latter used the word “told” would, I think, have stirred most men to resistance. It was far more expressive than if he had said commanded. Lyle stood quite still a moment or two looking at the Colonel with wrinkled brows. 347
“If you will listen to me for a few minutes, sir,” he said at length.
“No!” interrupted Carrington. “It would be a waste of time. You know my views. There is nothing more to be said.”