“Unless I am greatly mistaken,” said Royce, “this will not be one of the times.” He advanced until he was within arm’s length of Nat, then resumed: “I asked you, when you first came into this place, what you wanted. The inquiry was made simply because your presence was undesirable.”
“I think I understand,” replied the boy, easily enough. “Persons who have particular and urgent business don’t like to be intruded upon.”
“I’m going to ask the same question now,” continued Royce, his jaw set in a grim way, “and this time I want a plain, straightforward answer.”
“The night is wet,” said Nat. “I have ridden quite some distance. And the lights of an inn are always particularly attractive at such a time.”
With a snarling sound the man made a clutch at the boy’s throat; but Nat, with a light, quick movement, evaded him. Then he in turn shot out his hand and gripped the Tory by the wrist. Though not much over seventeen, Nat was as large as most men and stronger than a great many, as Royce at once discovered. The clutch upon the wrist was like iron, and with a quick whirl, the young mountaineer spun the man around.
“It would be as well, sir,” said he, “not to lose your temper. It will hardly do you any good, and may result in doing you considerable harm.”
In weight the Tory was greatly the young mountaineer’s superior. But his bulk was soft, flabby, untrained and his breath scant. On the other hand, Nat was hard, supple and swift, with wind and endurance that would carry him far.
What a struggle between them would have resulted in was still to remain in doubt; for a quick, forward movement of the followers of Royce caused Nat to let go and step back, his hand going to the butt of Mr. Chew’s pistol. However, there was no need of immediate alarm, for the men, while their attitudes toward him lacked nothing in hostility, seemed to have something else in mind. They whispered and argued with Royce, holding his arms. He began by struggling and storming at them and demanding that they set him free that he might chastise Nat for his impudence in resisting. But in a few moments he calmed wonderfully.
“You are right,” said he, quietly enough. “We have more important matters to carry out. Gentlemen, I beg your pardon. I’m afraid I have not kept my temper very well, and have risked compromising our errand.” He shook himself like a great dog; turning once more to Nat, he said:
“I’ll see to you in a few moments, my lad, if you’ve the courage to remain.”