“Moose, bobcat, fisher-cat—” But Tommy ceased his enumeration to dodge a vicious sweep of Britt’s palm.
“I guess he left the place for good, seeing he took his rifle and his pack,” continued the guide. “I thought the timber owners might like to know that their fire station is abandoned. As for the girl,” he hastened to add, “Mr. Wade told me to say that for reasons that Mr. Britt would understand he didn’t think she ought to come here.”
“Because she’s lost her head over my boss, MacLeod, eh?” demanded Britt.
“You saw yourself that the girl wasn’t to be controlled easily when the young man was present,” said Christopher, mildly. “So he believes if there is business to be talked to her and about her it will be better to meet somewhere else.”
“The blasted coward is afraid to come with her or let her come,” sneered the Honorable Pulaski. “Well, we’ll go up there; and we’ll take a few men along and find out who’s runnin’ this thing—a college dude or the men who own these timber lands.” Mr. Barrett would have advised more pacificatory talk. But Mr. Britt was in a mood too generally unamiable that day to heed prudence and wise counsel.
“You’ll have only your own trouble for your trip,” remarked Straight. “This man here said that Mr. Barrett was all ready to leave the woods. Mr. Wade has left the top of the mountain with the girl, and will meet Mr. Barrett to the south of Pogey Notch. You’ll not have to go out of your way, sir,” he explained.
“Well, where?” snapped Britt.
“I’m here prepared to lead Mr. Barrett to the place, and I suggest that if he’s ready we’ll be on our way. You’ll probably want to fetch the Half-way House at nightfall, sir.”
This patent distrust of Pulaski Britt and his designs angered that gentleman quite beyond the power of even his profanity. But he knew Christopher Straight too well to attempt to bulldoze that hard-eyed old woodsman.
“Is this select assembly too good to have me come along?” he inquired, his thick lips curling under his beard.