But Thatch, sober, possessed an animal’s instinct and smelled the trap.
“That Lon Hester’s a derned fool. Wish some one would comb him,” he growled. “See how he choked me this mornin’? By Gawdfrey! Take it a few years back an’ he wouldn’t be wearin’ no rooster’s feathers round this yere settlement. Almost wish we’d let the stranger muss him up. Reckon the new feller could do it, at that.”
“I mean, about what he said to me,” quietly corrected Polcher, drawing a step nearer, both hands under his apron now.
“Lawd, he didn’t go for to give ye any lip, did he?” cried Thatch. “If he did, ye was a fool to take it. Lem’me tell ye something Polcher, that mebbe ye don’t know. Lon Hester’s fightin’ nerve is mighty poor quality. He’s low-down. If ever he gives ye any lip, jest ye comb him. Why, if I was a bit younger, I’d mount him in a second. Makes me feel wolfish round the head an’ shoulders to see that feller carry on so an’ make his betters step aside. Now, ’cause ye keep a tavern, he ’lows he can bully ye. But if ye’ll jest swing a bottle ag’in his chuckle-head he’ll be as meek as a rabbit.”
He ran out of breath and paused. Polcher frowned slightly, withdrew one hand and rubbed his chin doubtfully. Jackson hugely admired the old man’s dissimulation and lowered his rifle.
“I thought you heard him giving me some lip when you woke up,” mused Polcher. “I intended to ask you about it, but you was gone before I remembered. I want you to promise me you’ll say nothing about it. If the other fellows knew he’d made cheap talk to me, it might set them all doing the same thing. And I have it hard enough as it is.”
Old Thatch avoided this trap also and replied:
“But I never heard nothin’. But I do still opine ye didn’t treat me very friendly when I only asked for a gallon. I know where a Injun has some furs hid, an’ I’d have fetched ’em to ye tonight. Ye might ’a’ took that chance on a old customer.”
Polcher laughed with his lips, making no sound, and slowly withdrew his right hand from the apron and folded his arms.
“See here, Thatch,” he softly began, “that gallon is yours and several more if you fetch me the furs—but leave the Injun.”