"And the rest of your settlement—where are they?"
McPherson told him.
"They all went, you say?"
For the first time the Scotchman hesitated. "All except one family," he qualified.
"There was but one family there." Landor was not observing the company collectively now. "You mean to tell me Sam Rowland did not go?"
"Yes."
"That you—men here went off and left him and his wife and little girl alone at this time?" The questioner's eyelids were closing ominously. "You come here with that story and ask me to let you inside?"
McPherson was no coward. His short legs spread belligerently, his shoulders squared.
"We're here," he announced laconically.
"I observe." Just a shade closer came the tightened eyelids. "Moreover, strange to say, I'm glad to see you." He leaned forward involuntarily; his breath came quick. "It gives me the opportunity, sir, to tell you to your face that you're a damned coward." In spite of an obvious effort at repression, the great veins of the speaker's throat swelled visibly. "A damned coward, sir!"