Part 85 (1/2)

The meal went forward in absolute silence, which Bob knew better than to interrupt. It ended for each as he or she finished eating. The two women were left at the last quite alone. Bob followed his host to the veranda.

There he silently offered the old man a cigar; the younger men had vanished.

Samuels took the cigar with a grunt of thanks, smelled it carefully, bit an inch off the end, and lit it with a slow-burning sulphur match. Bob also lit up.

For one hour and a half--two cigars apiece--the two sat side by side without uttering a syllable. The velvet dark drew close. The heavens sparkled as though frosted with light. Bob, sitting tight on what he knew was the one and only plan to accomplish his purpose, began to despair of his chance. Of his companion he could make out dimly only the white of his hair and beard, the glowing fire of his cigar. Inside the house the noises made by the inhabitants thereof increased and died away; evidently the household was seeking its slumber. A tree-toad chirped, loudest in all the world of stillness.

Suddenly, without warning, the old man sc.r.a.ped back his chair. Bob's heart leaped. Was his one chance escaping him? Then to his relief Samuels spoke. The long duel of silence was at an end.

XIV

”What might your name be?” inquired Samuels.

”Orde.”

”I heerd of you ... what might you be doing up here?”

”I'm just riding through.”

”Best thing any of you can do,” commented the old man grimly.

”I wish you'd tell me now why you jumped on me so this evening,” said Bob.

”If you don't know, you're a fool,” growled Samuels.

”I've knocked around a good deal,” persisted Bob, ”and I've discovered that one side always sounds good until you hear the other man's story.

I've only heard one side of this one.”

”And that's all you're like to hear,” Samuels told him. ”You don't get no evidence out of me against myself.”

Bob laughed.

”You're mighty suspicious--and I don't know as I blame you. Bless your soul, what evidence do you suppose I could get from you in a case like this? You've already made it clear enough with that old blunderbuss of yours what you think of the merits of the case. I asked you out of personal interest. I know the Government claims you don't own this place; and I was curious to know why you think you do. The Government reasoning looks pretty conclusive to a man who doesn't know all the circ.u.mstances.”

”Oh, it is, is it!” cried Samuels, stung to anger. ”Well, what claim do you think the Government has?”

But Bob was too wily to be put in the aggressive.

”I'm not thinking; I'm asking,” said he. ”They say you're holding this for the timber, and never proved up.”

”I took it up bony-fidy,” fairly shouted Samuels. ”Do you think a man plants an orchard and such like on a timber claim. The timber is worth something, of course. Well, don't every man take up timber? What about that Wolverine Company of yours? What about the Yellow Pine people? What about everybody, everywhere? Ain't I got a right to it, same as everybody else?”

He leaned forward, pounding his knee. A querulous and sleepy voice spoke up from the interior of the cabin:

”Oh, pa, for heaven's sake don't holler so!”

The old man paused in mid-career. Over the treetops the moon was rising slowly. Its light struck across the lower part of the verandah, showing clearly the gnarled hand of the mountaineer suspended above his st.u.r.dy knee; casting into dimness the silver of his ma.s.sive head. The hand descended noiselessly.

”Ain't I got my rights, same as another man?” he asked, more reasonably.