“No call for that sort of talk to Ward at all!” denounced Davis.
“What call had Ward to say he was a fool?” loudly demanded one of the young men.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” I admitted, now much ashamed of my hot-headedness. “I’ll say as much to Ward when I see him next. If he’d look and act more like a white man then I’d keep remembering that he is white. But I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Morris, that’s much better,” said Dale. “I’ll tell him what you said and you needn’t eat your words a second time in public. I admire you for conquering yourself and saying it.”
Uncle Dick did not relish my retraction, and his near-sighted eyes glared at me in disgust.
“Too much talkin’. Scouts oughter be out. Our friends, th’ killers, have quit us.”
Glad to be alone, I volunteered:
“I’ll scout half the circle, striking west, then south, returning on the east side.”
Moulton, a quiet, soft-spoken fellow, but a very demon in a fight, picked up his rifle and waved his hand to his wife and little girl and trotted in the opposite direction, calling back over his shoulder:
“I’ll go east, north and half-down the west side.”