He shook his reins, and drove on to the tune of their laughter.
His feelings were much mixed. He felt that he ought in decency to be chiefly concerned on Jennie Mackall's account, but he could not drive Bela out of his head. He was both angry and terrified at her coming. Just when he was beginning to feel free and easy she had to come and start up the old trouble in his breast. Just when men were beginning to forget the story which humiliated him, she came along and gave it new point!
Sam had to get mad at something, and, like young persons generally, he concentrated on a side issue. By the time he got into the settlement he had succeeded in working himself up to a great pitch of indignation against the Beatties, who, he told himself, had sent Jennie Mackall home to part her from him.
Reaching the company reservation, he drove boldly up the hill to ask for an explanation. Mrs. Beattie was on the porch sewing, as ever her bland, capable self.
"They tell me Miss Mackall has gone away," said Sam stiffly.
"She was taken sick last night," replied Mrs. Beattie. "We all thought it best for her to go when she had a good chance."
Mrs. Beattie arose.
"She left a note to bid you good-bye. I'll get it."
This was what Sam read, written in a well nigh illegible scrawl: