“Ye sartin done it good, my little man, an' I'm glad to know ye better. But Colonel Gid Ward, sure he lied about ye, or I'd never called ye names at Sunkhaze.”
“You didn't expect that man to tell the truth about me, did you?” Parker demanded.
“Why, he said ye was a little white-livered sneak that wouldn't dare to put up your hands to a Sunkhaze mosquito of the June breed, an' that ye were tryin' to come in here an' do business amongst real men. I couldn't stand that, I couldn't!”
“But my business—my reasons for being here—my responsibilities!” cried Parker. “I see he must have lied about that part of it.”
“Ah, I don't know anything about your business, nor care!” Connick growled. “I only know there's something about a Poquette railro'd in it. But all that's between you and Gid Ward. You can talk that over with him.”
“Do you mean to tell me that you and your men have destroyed that railroad property without having any special grudge against the project?”
“Why, railro'ds ain't any of our business,” the giant replied, with his eyes wide open and frank.
“What are you—slaves?” Parker cried, angrily. In addition to his lesson in woods' thivalry he was getting education regarding the irresponsibility of these unconventional children of the wild lands.
The taunt did not seem to anger the men.
“This railro'd is Gid Ward's business,” said Connick. “We work for Gid Ward, He owns the Poquette land, don't he? He said he didn't want any railro'd there. He told us to come down an' dump the thing. We come down, of course it's been dumped. You can fix that with him. But you're a good little fighter, my man. He didn't tell the truth about you.”