In his perturbation, forced to eat, as it seemed, by the quiet insistence of the warden, Barrett swallowed a few mouthfuls of food. But he cowered, with side glances at the grim man by the door. Then he pushed his plate away, choking. Maddened by the silent watchfulness, he stood up.
“I’ll see you in the office,” he muttered. “I’ll tell you now and before witnesses that I’m ready to settle. I’ve always been ready to settle. It would have been settled long ago if you had let my man talk with you. Now, let’s not have any trouble, Lane, over what’s past and gone. I’ll do anything that’s reasonable.”
He shot an appealing glance at Withee.
“We’ll take Withee with us,” he declared. “We’ll talk in the office.”
“We’ll talk under no roof of yours and on no land belonging to you,” answered Lane, firmly. “We’ll talk private matters before no third party. If you’re done your supper, Mr. Barrett, you’ll come with me where we can stand out man to man in God’s open country with no peekers and listeners—and that’s more for your sake than it is for mine. I’ve done nothing in this life that I’m ashamed of.”
“Do you take me for a fool?” roared the land baron, hiding fear under an assumption of his usual manner. “Do you think I’m going into the woods alone with you?”
“You are, Mr. Barrett.”
“By ——, I won’t!”
“I’m no hand for a threat,” grated Lane, in a low, strange voice, “but you’ll come with me. You know why you’ll come with me, because you know what I’m likely to do to you if you don’t come.”