Part 11 (2/2)
”I like his room better nor his company,” said the trapper.
A couple of hours later, when the three were smoking lazily by the sitting-room fire, they were startled by the sounds of a vehicle and horse tearing up to the house at top speed. Rayton and Turk got quickly to their feet. The front door flew open and heavy boots banged along the uncarpeted hall. Then the door of the room was flung wide, and David Marsh burst in. His right arm was bandaged and slung, but in his left hand he held a heavy stick.
”Have you seen that skunk, d.i.c.k Goodine?” he cried. ”My camp on Teakettle Brook's burnt to the ground! Oh, there you are!”
By this time Mr. Banks and Goodine were also on their feet. Marsh started forward, with murder in his eyes, and his mouth twisted. Rayton stepped in front of him.
”Kindly remember that you are in my house,” said the Englishman quietly.
”Just stop where you are, please, and explain yourself.”
”Get to h.e.l.l out of my way!” cried David. ”I ain't talkin' to you.
There's the sneak I'm after--the dirty coward who cut halfway through my canoe pole, and then set my camp afire, stores and all! Let me at him, you pie-faced Englishman!”
CHAPTER VIII
RAYTON GOES TO BORROW A SAUCEPAN
”What do you want of me, Davy Marsh?” demanded the trapper. ”If you think I cut your canoe pole, yer a fool, and if you say so, yer a liar!”
”And what is all this about your camp?” asked Rayton, wrenching the club from David's hand. ”Keep cool, and tell us about it.”
”By----!” cried the guide, ”I'd knock the stuffin' out of the two o' ye if I had the use o' my arm! You call me a liar, d.i.c.k Goodine? That's easy--now--with my right arm in splints. And as you are so d.a.m.n smart, Rayton, can you tell me who burnt down my camp? And can you tell me who cut that pole? There's a piece of it standin' in the corner--proof enough to send a man to jail on!”
”This is the first I have heard of the camp,” replied Rayton, ”and I am very sorry to hear of it now. When did it happen?”
”Happen?” cried Marsh bitterly. ”It happened this very day. Peter Griggs was out that way with a load of grub for one o' Harley's camps, this very afternoon, and it was just burnin' good when he come to it. Hadn't bin set more'n an hour, he cal'lated, but it was too far gone for him to stop it. So he unhitched one of his horses and rode in to tell me, hopin' I'd be able to catch the d.a.m.n skunk who done it. And here he is, by h.e.l.l!”
”You are wrong there, Marsh,” said Mr. Banks. ”Goodine has been with us since early yesterday morning, way over in the Long Barrens country--and we didn't get home till this afternoon.”
”We made camp near the Barrens last night,” said Rayton.
”Is that the truth?” asked Marsh. ”Cross your heart! So help you G.o.d!”
”It is the truth,” said Rayton.
”d.a.m.n your cheek, Marsh, of course it is the truth,” roared Banks.
d.i.c.k Goodine nodded. ”Cross my heart. So help me G.o.d,” he said.
The flush of rage slipped down from David's brow and face like a red curtain. He moistened his lips with his tongue.
”Then it's the curse of them two marks on the card!” he whispered.
”It's the curse of them two red crosses!”
”Rot!” exclaimed Mr. Banks. ”Just because Goodine didn't fire your camp, you jump to the conclusion that the devil did it. Rot!”
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