“I haven’t the time to argue on that, sir. I have business north of here. I’ll hire a horse or I’ll buy a horse.”
“And you heard what I said, that I can’t spare one. By the way, Latisan, you may as well understand that I won’t do business with you, anyway. You got me in wrong with my folks and with the Three C’s, too, when you bribed my men to load that dynamite.”
“I can’t see why the Comas company——”
“I can. My folks can. If we get saw logs this year we’ve got to buy ’em through Rufus Craig. When you ran away and let Ech Flagg get dished——”
“His drive is coming through,” insisted Latisan, desperately, breaking in on speech in his turn.
“Where are you from, right now?” inquired the super.
“New York.”
“And a devil of a lot you must have found out about the prospect of logs from the independents, Flagg or anybody else. Don’t come up here and try to tell me my business; I’ve been here all the time. Good night!” He banged down the window.
And once more Ward was alone in the night, distracted and desolate. This testing of the estimation in which he was held in the north country after the debacle in Adonia made his despondency as black as the darkness which surrounded him.
He wanted to call to the super and ask if at least he could buy the lantern. He decided it would be better to borrow it.