Part 27 (2/2)

With his knee brus.h.i.+ng against that of old Jim Rowlett, Parish Thornton rode away from that meeting, and from the sentinels in the laurel he heard no hint of sound.

When he had come to the place where his pistol lay hidden he withdrew it and replaced it in his pocket, and a little farther on where the creek wound its way through a s.h.i.+mmering glade and two trails branched, the veteran drew rein.

”I reckon we parts company hyar,” he said, ”but I feels like we've done accomplished a right good day's work. Termorrow Hump an' me'll fare over ter yore house and git yore answer.”

”I'm obleeged,” responded the new chief of the Thorntons, but when he was left alone he did not ride on to the house in the river bend.

Instead he went to the other house upon whose door his first letter of threat had been posted, and hitching his horse in its dilapidated shed he set out on foot for the near-by place where Bas Rowlett dwelt alone.

Twenty-four hours had been all he could ask in reaching a decision on such an issue, yet before he could make answer much remained to be determined, and in that determination he must rely largely on chances which he could not hope to regulate or force into a pattern of success.

He had, for example, no way of guessing how long it would be before Bas returned to his farm or whether, when he came, he would be alone--and to-morrow's answer depended upon an unwitnessed interview between them.

But he had arrived on foot and taken up his place of concealment at the back of the log structure with only a half-hour of waiting when the other man appeared, riding in leisurely unconcern and unaccompanied.

Thornton loosed his pistol and drew back into the lee of the square stone chimney where he remained safe from discovery until the other had pa.s.sed into the stable and begun to ungirth his saddle.

The house stood remote from any neighbouring habitation, and the road at its front was an infrequently used sledge trail. The stable was at its side, while back of the buildings themselves, angling off behind the screening shoulder of a steep spur of hillside, stretched a small orchard where only gnarled apple trees and a few ”bee-gums” broke a small and level amphitheatre into which the possible pa.s.serby could not see.

The lord of this manor stood bent, his fingers wrestling with the stubbornness of a rusted buckle, when he heard at his back, low of tone but startlingly staccato in its quality of imperativeness, the single syllable, ”Bas!”

Rowlett wheeled, leaping back with a hand sweeping instinctively to his holster--but he arrested that belligerent gesture with a sudden paralysis of caution because of the look in the eyes of the surprise visitor who stood poised with forward-bending readiness of body, and a revolver levelled in a hand of bronze steadiness.

”I'm on my feet now, Bas,” came a quiet voice that chilled the hearer with an inexplicable rigour, ”I reckon ye hain't fergot my promise.”

Rowlett gave way backward until the wall obstructed his retreat, and in obedience to the unspoken command in the eyes of his visitor, he extended both arms high above his head, but while he stood unmoving, his adroit mind was racing.

He knew what he would do if the situation were reversed, and he believed that the other was waiting only to punish him with a castigation of vengeful words before he shot him down and left him lying in the trampled straw and manure of that unclean stable.

Now he had to brace himself against the tortures of a physical fear from which he had believed himself immune. So he stood breathing unevenly and waiting, and while he waited the temper of his nerves was being drawn as it is drawn from over-heated steel.

”Come on with me,” commanded Thornton.

The surprised man obeyed sullenly, casting an anxious eye about in the slender hope of interruption, and when they reached the orchard where even that chance ended Parish Thornton spoke again:

”When us two tuck oath ter sottle matters betwixt ourselves--I didn't skeercely foresee what was comin' ter pa.s.s. Now I kain't seek ter make ther compact hold over till a fairer time, ner seek ter change hit's terms, nuther, without ye're willin'.”

”Suppose I hain't willin'?”

For answer Parish Thornton sheathed his weapon.

”Now,” he said with a deadly quiet, ”we're on even terms. Either you an'

me draws our pistols an' fights twell one of us draps dead or else----”

He paused, and saw the face of his enemy go green and pasty as Rowlett licked his lips yet left his hands hanging at his sides. At length the intriguer demanded, ”Or else--what?”

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