“It’s been hell for all of us, John, but I reckon you’ve been in the hottest corner of it if what they tell me is true. I didn’t have time to ask for any details, not with that infernal fire on my hands, but it isn’t the first time that rascals have poked up fools in these woods to pay off old grudges against timber-land owners. I’ve hit back hard a few times myself. This time we’ll hit hard enough to teach ’em a lesson that will stick awhile.” He put his head out of the door and yelled an order to the cook.
“It—it may not be best to push things too hard,” faltered Barrett, spreading his wet, blue hands to the blaze of the Franklin stove. “Things have come up that—”
“They’ve tried the same bluff on me,” blustered the host. “They loaded old Lane up with threats of what he’d do. It’s all conspiracy and blackmail. There’s more behind it than we realize now. But we’ll dig ’em out, Barrett. We’ve got to smash the whole thing now or they’ll have us on the run. I didn’t suppose Barnum Withee was the kind of man to work out a grudge the way he did, but it shows us the danger in bein’ too easy with any of ’em. Old Lane is only crazy. It’s this Wade we want to bang the hardest. I’ll tell you what I believe, John. I’ll bet cents to saw-logs he’s been hired to come up here and start a rebellion. There are interests in this State that will do it. By Judas, in twenty-four hours I’ll show ’em!”
The tacit partnership of honorable reparation bound by hand-clasp on Jerusalem had not the elements to make it endure in Pulaski Britt’s domains, with Pulaski Britt to sound his old-time rallying call of greed and tyranny. That earlier partnership, sealed by the arms of Old King Spruce, had never been dissolved, and Barrett was once more becoming “Stumpage John,” cold and hard and calculating.
“Look here, Pulaski,” he blurted out, in sudden confidence, “there’s a little more to this than you understand just now. I’m in a devil of a position. I—I—” He hesitated, staring into the fire and waving his hands slowly in the steam that rose from his sodden garments.
“I haven’t done just right, I suppose, but there are reasons why, that a man like you will understand. I just left that Wade fellow up on the top of Jerusalem. We’ve had a talk. He didn’t understand very well.”
“Did he offer to trade something for the sake of gettin’ that daughter of yours that he’s in love with?” demanded Britt, maliciously.
“I don’t know,” confessed the other. “I’m under obligations to him, Pulaski. He cut me loose from a tree to-day in Pogey Notch. In another ten minutes the fire would have got me.”
“Great Jehosaphat!” exploded the host. “Tried to kill you! A timber grudge carried that far!” He stamped about the little camp. His face wrinkled with apprehension and fury. He had a sudden vivid mind-picture of his own reign of tyranny, and realized that if John Barrett had been attacked, Pulaski Britt had more reason to fear. “It’s a call for a lynchin’, John,” he said, hoarsely. “And I’ve got a crew that will do it.”
“It was Lane that tied me—the fire-station warden,” Barrett went on.