Part 11 (1/2)
Mac roused himself, muttering compliments for Potts. When he had bundled himself out over the side of the bunk, he saw the Colonel seemingly dozing by the fire.
He waited a moment. Then, very softly, he made his way to the farther end of the swing-shelf.
The Colonel opened one eye, shut it, and shuffled in a sleepy sort of way. Mac turned sharply back to the fire.
The Colonel opened his eyes and yawned.
”I made some cawfee a little while back. Have some?”
”No.”
”Better; it's A 1.”
”Where's Potts?”
”Gone out for a little. Back soon.” He poured out some of the strong, black decoction, and presented it to his companion. ”Just try it.
Finest cawfee in the world, sir.”
Mac poured it down without seeming to bother about tasting it.
They sat quite still after that, till the Colonel said meditatively:
”You and I had a little account to settle, didn't we?”
”I'm ready.”
But neither moved for several moments.
”See here, Mac: you haven't been ill or anything like that, have you?”
”No.” There was no uncertain note in the answer; if anything, there was in it more than the usual toneless decision. Mac's voice was machine-made--as innocent of modulation as a buzz-saw, and with the same uncompromising finality as the shooting of a bolt. ”I'm ready to stand up against any man.”
”Good!” interrupted the Colonel. ”Glad o' that, for I'm just longing to see you stand up--”
Mac was on his feet in a flash.
”You had only to say so, if you wanted to see me stand up against any man alive. And when I sit down again it's my opinion one of us two won't be good-lookin' any more.”
He pushed back the stools.
”I thought maybe it was only necessary to mention it,” said the Colonel slowly. ”I've been wanting for a fortnight to see you stand up”--Mac turned fiercely--”against Samuel David MacCann.”
”Come on! I'm in no mood for monkeyin'!”
”Nor I. I realise, MacCann, we've come to a kind of a crisis. Things in this camp are either going a lot better, or a lot worse, after to-day.”
”There's nothing wrong, if you quit asking dirty Jesuits to sit down with honest men.”
”Yes; there's something worse out o' shape than that.”