The next morning, after the breakfast of bread and venison, the host said: “Young man, now that you have slept on your anger, I wish you'd tell me the story of your trouble with my brother Gideon. I know that he has been rough and hard with men, but many have been rough and hard with him. This is a country where all the men are rough and hard. But I fear that had it not been for the good God and these old hands of mine, my brother would be now little else than a murderer. Tell me the story.” His voice trembled with apology and apprehension.
Parker stated all the circumstances faithfully and impartially. At the conclusion Joshua's eyes glowed with fires that had not been seen in them for years. He struck his brown fist down on his rude table.
“Defying God's law and man's law to the disgrace of himself and all his name! And you had not been rough and hard to him,” he cried. “Bitter, bitter news you bring to me, Mr. Parker.”
There was a long pause, and at last Joshua Ward went on:
“Mr. Parker, that man is my own—my only brother, no matter how other people look at him. I have saved your life. Will you give me one chance to straighten this matter out?”
“You mean?”
“I mean that if Gideon Ward will pay for the damage he has done your property, ask your forgiveness as a man, and promise to keep away and let you alone, will you be charitable enough to let the matter rest?”
Parker pondered a while with set lips. It cost a struggle to forego vengeance on that wretch, but many issues were involved, principally the early completion of the railroad and his consequent favor with his employers.
“Mr. Ward,” he declared, at last, “I came down here to build a railroad, not to get entangled in the courts. For your sake and the sake of my project I will give your brother an opportunity to make atonement on the conditions you name. I owe my life to you, and I will discharge part of my obligation in the way you ask.”
“Are you afraid to accompany me back to Number 7 camp?”