"I am," replied Rayton, and told frankly but briefly of his talk with Jim Harley and of his fight with Nash.
"I am glad you punched Nash, for I don't like the animal," said Banks. "But why in thunder didn't you trim Harley first? He insulted you."
"He didn't mean to insult me. He believes in the potency of those red crosses. It is a matter of family pride with him," answered Rayton.
CHAPTER XII
RAYTON IS REMINDED OF THE RED CROSSES
The snow vanished during the day, under the unseasonable glow of the sun; but with evening came a biting frost and a choking, quiet wind out of a clear sky. The next morning lifted bright and cold, with a glint of ice over all the wilderness, but not so much as a patch or tatter of snow anywhere.
Banks and Rayton breakfasted by lamplight, for they had planned a morning after ruffled grouse. The sun was just over the eastern forests when they stepped out from the warm kitchen to the frosted open, buttoned their fur-lined gloves, and turned up the collars of their blanket "jumpers." They separated at a spur of spruces and firs that thrust itself, like a green buttress, into the yellow-brown of a back pasture.
"You can have Turk. He may find you a belated woodcock or two," said Rayton.
So Banks swung to the left, and entered the forest, with the obedient, eager dog at his heels, and a trail of fragrant smoke drifting over his shoulder, pure blue in the sunshine.