“What I am going to do is no business of yours,” Erskine said quietly, “but I hope we shall not be on the same side. We may meet again.”
Grey’s face was already red with drink and it turned purple with anger.
“When you tried to stab me do you remember what I said?” Erskine nodded contemptuously.
“Well, I repeat it. Whatever the side, I’ll fight you anywhere at any time and in any way you please.”
“Why not now?”
“This is not the time for private quarrels and you know it.”
Erskine bowed slightly—an act that came oddly from an Indian head-dress.
“I can wait—and I shall not forget. The day will come.”
The old priest touched Erskine’s shoulder as the angry youth rode away.
“I cannot make it out,” he said. “He claims to represent an English fur company. His talk is British but he told one man—last night when he was drunk—that he could have a commission in the American army.”