“I’m kind of sorry, Charlie,” he said, his face flushing with contrition. “I didn’t think. You see, I hadn’t——”
But the other waved his regret aside.
“Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “Guess you can’t hurt me that way. I was thinking on other lines. What does matter, and matters pretty badly, is that some day, if you stop around Rocky Springs, you’ll find it up to you to take sides between Fyles and——”
“And?” Bill’s interest had become suddenly absorbed as his brother paused, his gaze once more drifting away beyond the river. Finally, Charlie turned back to him.
“Me,” he said quietly. And the two stood facing each other, eye to eye.
It was some moments before Bill’s slow-moving wit came to his aid. He was so startled that it was even slower than usual.
“You and—Fyles?” he said at last, his eyes full of absurd wonder. “I don’t understand. You—you are not against the law?”
Bill’s wonder had changed to apprehension, and the sight of it distracted his brother’s more serious mood.
“Does a fellow always need to be against the law to get up against a police officer?” he inquired, with a smile of amusement. Then his smile died out, and he went on enigmatically. “Men can scrap about most anything,” he said slowly. “Men who are men. I may be a poor example, but——Say, when Fyles takes hold of things in Rocky Springs, I guess he isn’t likely to feel kindly disposed my way. That being so, you’ll surely be fixed one way or the other. Get me, Bill?”