“He wanted to pick a fight,” put in Ned. “He wanted to have Walt injured by that blackguard Barker so’s to prevent him from going to Texas.”
The long man’s interest deepened.
“So you are going to Texas, are you?” said he to young Jordan.
“We both are,” replied the latter.
“Might I ask what part?”
“San Antonio.”
The backwoodsman whistled.
“Well,” said he, “you’ve picked out what seems likely to be a mighty interesting section of the new country.”
Here the lines were cast off, and the “Mediterranean” steamed out into the stream; then gathering headway she once more split the muddy waters on her journey southward. The battle upon the pier at Randolph was, for a time, the chief subject of conversation. But as Barker had retired to his stateroom, where his friends and some of the steamboat’s people were striving to make him presentable once more, and Walter held to a corner of the upper deck with Ned and the stranger, making himself no more conspicuous than was necessary, the matter gradually died down, and finally almost completely ceased to be discussed.
A planter, who appeared to be a man of some consequence, appeared upon the deck with some friends; and catching sight of the stranger in the hunting shirt who stood talking with the two young travelers, he advanced with a surprised greeting.