"Fust time I ever heerd of anybody not wantin' a feller to shoot at a
tree."
Gray saw that he was in earnest and he kept on, smiling.
"Well, we haven't got as many trees here as you have down in the
mountains, and up here they're more valuable."
The last words were unfortunate.
"Looks like you keer a heep fer yo' trees," sneered the mountain boy
with a wave of his pistol toward a demolished woodland; "an' if our
trees air so wuthless, whut do you furriners come down thar and rob us
of 'em fer?"
The sneer, the tone, and the bitter emphasis on the one ugly word
turned Gray's face quite red.
"You mustn't say anything like that to me," was his answer, and the
self-control in his voice but helped make the mountain boy lose his at
once and completely. He rode straight for Gray and pulled in, waving
his pistol crazily before the latter's face, and Gray could actually
hear the grinding of his teeth.
"Go git yo' gun! Git yo' gun!"
Gray turned very pale, but he showed no fear.
"I don't know what's the matter with you," he said steadily, "but you
must be drunk."
"Go git yo' gun!" was the furious answer. "Go git yo' gun!"
"Boys don't fight with guns in this country, but--"
"You're a d--d coward," yelled Jason.
Gray's fist shot through the mist of rage that suddenly blinded him,
catching Jason on the point of the chin, and as the mountain boy spun
half around in his saddle, Gray caught the pistol in both hands and in
the struggle both rolled, still clutching the weapon, to the ground,
Gray saying with quiet fury:
"Drop that pistol and I'll lick hell out of you!"
There was no answer but the twist of Jason's wrist, and the bullet went
harmlessly upward. Before he could pull the trigger again, the sinewy
fingers of a man's hand closed over the weapon and pushed it flat with
the earth, and Jason's upturned eyes looked into the grave face of the
school-master. That face was stern and shamed Jason instantly. The two
boys rose to their feet, and the mountain boy turned away from the
school-master and saw Marjorie standing ten yards away white and
terror-stricken, and her eyes when he met them blazed at him with a
light that no human eye had ever turned on him before. The boy knew
anger, rage, hate, revenge, but contempt was new to him, and his soul
was filled with sudden shame that was no less strange, but the spirit
in him was undaunted, and like a challenged young buck his head went up
as he turned again to face his accuser.
"Were you going to shoot an unarmed boy?" asked John Burnham gravely.
"He hit me."
"You called him a coward."
"He hit me."
"He offered to fight you fist and skull."
"He had the same chance to git the gun that I had."
"He wasn't trying to get it in order to shoot you."
Jason made no answer and the school-master repeated:
"He offered to fight you fist and skull."
"I was too mad--but I'll fight him now."
"Boys don't fight in the presence of young ladies."
Gray spoke up and in his tone was the contempt that was in Marjorie's
eyes, and it made the mountain boy writhe.
"I wouldn't soil my hands on you--now."
The school-master rebuked Gray with a gesture, but Jason was confused
and sick now and he held out his hand for his pistol.
"I better be goin' now--this ain't no place fer me."
The school-master gravely handed the weapon to him.
"I'm coming over to have a talk with you, Jason," he said.
The boy made no answer. He climbed on his horse slowly. His face was
very pale, and once only he swept the group with eyes that were
badgered but no longer angry, and as they rested on Marjorie, there was
a pitiful, lonely something in them that instantly melted her and
almost started her tears. Then he rode silently and slowly away.