“It’s a nasty suspicion. I’d rather sec a child of mine transformed into a cur dog, and killed for stealing sheep, than fall to the level of such a man. But only time will prove the issue.”
“I’ve made up my mind to turn over a new leaf,” said McLeod. “I’m sick of rowdyism. I’m going to be a law-abiding, loyal citizen.”
“That’s just what I’m afraid of!” exclaimed the Preacher with a sneer as he turned and left him.
And his fears were soon confirmed. Within a month the Independence Observer contained a dispatch from Washington announcing the appointment of Allan McLeod a Deputy United States Marshal for the District of Western North Carolina, together with the information that he had renounced his allegiance to his old disloyal associates, and had become an enthusiastic Republican; and that henceforth he would labour with might and main to establish peace and further the industrial progress of the South.
“I knew it. The dirty whelp!” cried the Preacher, as he showed the paper to his wife.
“Now don’t be too hard on the boy, Doctor Durham,” urged his wife. “He may be sincere in his change of politics. You never did like him.”
“Sincere! yes, as the devil is always sincere. He’s dead in earnest now. He’s found his level, and his success is sure. Mark my words the boy’s a villain from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. He has bartered his soul to save his skin, and the skin is all that’s left.”
“I’m sorry to think it. I couldn’t help liking him.”
“And that’s the funniest freak I ever knew your fancy to take, my dear,—I never could understand it.”
When McLeod had established his office in Hambright, he made special efforts to allay the suspicions against his name. His indignant denials of the report of his treachery convinced many that he had been wronged. Two men alone, maintained toward him an attitude of contempt, Major Dameron and the Preacher.