Hendrie was driven to furious denial by the taunt.
"Ah, that's better!" cried Leyburn. "Much better. I've cut through your rough hide. I say you left her to starve—for all you cared. And I've set myself up as the champion of her cause as well as my own. I'm going to carry it through with all the power at my command. Oh, I know no law will help me to my vengeance. That highway robbery is just between ourselves. Well, I guess I don't need any one's help to avenge it."
Hendrie had himself well under control again. He nodded as the man paused.
"Go on," he said.
"I intend to," Leyburn cried, his face livid and working with the fury that drove him. "I'm going back now to Toronto to set the machinery working. And that machinery will grind its way on till you are reduced to the dust I intend to crush you into. It will not be Labor against Capital. But Labor against Alexander Hendrie."
"And what shall I be doing?" Hendrie's eyes were alight with something like amusement.
"You—you? I'll tell you what you'll be doing when I've finished. You'll be wishing to God you had never stolen a dead man's gold."
Hendrie started. His eyes grew tigerish. But he remained silent. Leyburn saw the change and understood it.
"Oh, God, it was a low-down game, something about parallel to the ghoul on the battlefield stealing money and accouterments from the dead soldiers. Now you are going to pay for it as you deserve. Don't make any mistake. By God, Leo, I'm going to smash you!"
Austin Leyburn turned away and hurried down the trail.