Britt began a bitter diatribe, coupling the name of Wade and the girl as examples of all that is inimical to timber interests and timber owners—but he checked himself suddenly as soon as his native shrewdness mastered his passion. A flicker in his eyes showed that a light had burst upon his mind. He strode back and forth behind Barrett’s stool, and gazed down upon the stumpage king’s bent back.
“Look here, John,” he demanded, bluffly, at last, “was there any truth in the story that was limpin’ round in these woods about you almost twenty years ago? There was a woman in it—somebody’s wife. I’ve forgotten who.”
“It was Lane’s wife,” admitted Barrett, finding confession good for the soul of one who stood bitterly in need of practical advice—and Pulaski Britt was nothing if not practical. “I was up here prospecting, and she was bound to follow me up to camp, and I was infernal fool enough to let her. And when it came time for me to go out of the woods I couldn’t take her—you can see that for yourself! I thought I had provided for her—I would have done it, but she dropped out of sight, and I couldn’t go hunting around and stirring up gossip. Same way about the child.”
“Young one has had a nice, genteel bringin’-up,” remarked the Honorable Pulaski, sarcastically. Hard though his nature was, he had the sincerity of the woods, and he felt sudden contempt for this man who had uprooted for one brief sniff of its perfume a woods blossom that he could not wear.
“I didn’t realize it until Lane told me at Withee’s camp. I had hoped she had fallen into good hands. It’s a devil of a position to be in,” the other mourned, returning to his prior lament.
“Well,” remarked Britt, inexorably, “you can’t exactly complain because you are now gettin’ only a little of what Lane and the girl have been gettin’ a whole lot of all these years. It ain’t any use to whine to me, John. I don’t pity you much. I’ve been hard with men, but, by Cephas, I’ve never been soft with women! It don’t pay.”
“It seems as though you ought to be willin’ to advise me a little,” pleaded Barrett. “I’m ready to do what I can for the girl, now that I’ve found out about her. But Lane insisted on my taking her out with me and declaring her to the world as my daughter. And when I refused he tied me to the tree.”
“Oh, ho! It wasn’t just for the old original revenge, then?” queried Pulaski, his expression indicating a more charitable view of “Ladder” Lane’s assault on the vested timber interests as represented by Stumpage John Barrett. “Well, if the girl is your young one she ought to have a chance!”
In his turn, Barrett got up and paced the floor. “Such a thing would kill my chances of being the next governor of this State, and you and the whole timber crowd have got a lot at stake there.”