"You bet I ain't afraid, Custer,—and that's no way for you to speak to your pa, anyhow!"
But what he had intended should be the note of authority was no more than a whine of injury.
"Then why don't you come if you ain't afraid?" insisted the boy angrily.
"I don't know as I rightly know why I don't!" faltered Mr. Shrimplin. "I feel rotten bad all at once."
"You're a coward!" cried the boy in fierce scorn.
Sobs choked his further utterance while the hot tears blinded him on the instant. His idol had turned to clay in his very presence, and in the desolation of that moment he wished that he might be stricken with death, since life held nothing for him longer.
"Custer—" began Shrimplin.
"Why don't you be a man and go down there?" sobbed the boy.
"It's dangerous!" said Mr. Shrimplin.
"Then I'll go!" declared Custer resolutely.