SCOTT LOSES HIS NEUTRALITY
When the train had disappeared Scott turned to find the station agent
close behind him waiting for an opportunity to speak.
“I reckon Hopwood was right,” he said with his slow drawl.
“What makes you think so?” Scott asked, for he knew that Mr. Reynolds
had not told him.
“Three of the Waits have already told me that they are going to get the
logging contract,” he replied.
“Oh, they did, did they?” he exclaimed indignantly. Either Mr. Reynolds
must have talked to a gathering of the whole clan or the news had spread
like wild fire over the face of the mountain. “Well, they haven’t got it
yet,” he snapped. “I guess I’ll have something to say about who gets
that logging contract.”
“I asked them if you had told them and they said no, but your boss had,
and you would have to do as he said.”
Scott’s teeth came together with a vicious snap. “They’ll see whether I
have to or not.” He turned abruptly and walked across the tracks toward
the Wait country. “No pair of whipcord riding breeches is going to tell
me where to let a logging contract,” he muttered angrily to himself.
He did not know exactly why he had come in that direction. Possibly it
was his natural tendency to go straight for his enemy. He did not even
realize where he was going; he only realized that he was mad clear
through and that he had better walk some of it off before he talked to
anybody.
The forest came close down to the edge of the valley on this side and
the road was arched over with the beautiful hardwood trees. Scott would
have marveled at their size and beauty if he had not been too angry to
notice them. The quiet solitude of the steep mountain road was well
fitted to smooth a man’s ruffled temper and make him forget his
troubles. Everywhere the gray squirrels were chasing each other around
the trees in a never ending game of tag, and the birds were singing all
over the woods.
Before Scott had gone very far he met two men riding down the mountain
on horseback. They wore the regular uniform of that section, rough
homespun trousers and a black sateen shirt, and carried long
muzzle-loading rifles balanced across their saddle bows. They both
grinned condescendingly at Scott and gave him a careless, “Howdy.”
He did not think it strange that he should meet two men, but when he met
two more a little farther up and they greeted him in the same way he
began to comprehend. These were the triumphant Waits on their way to
town to celebrate their victory, and they were all laughing at him,
laughing because they had overreached him and made terms with the boss
that he would have to accept.
The thought maddened him, and by the time he had passed eight more he
was so angry that he could hardly see the big fellow who brought up the
rear of the last group of four. It would never do to start a row with
them now before he was really ready, and yet it was all he could do to
hide his fury and return their greetings casually.
The big fellow who had just passed turned in his saddle and looked at
him inquiringly. “Weren’t looking for me, were you, sonny?” he called
insolently in a rather thick voice.
Scott’s blood boiled at the tone and wording of the question. He did not
dare look at the man and it almost choked him to answer calmly, “Not
to-day.”
“Well, to-morrow will do,” the man called insolently. “You can find me
home most any day.” And the others laughed at the retort.
Scott saw red for a minute and half turned, but he caught himself in
time. He would not make much headway in handling this timber sale if he
began with a fight in the public road on a somewhat doubtful pretext. If
he did fight he ought to have a little better cause than that.
He did not meet any more of the offensive Waits and was beginning to
cool off a little so that he could think calmly. Suddenly he stopped
with a jerk and turned his startled gaze down the road in the direction
all the bands had been traveling. What would be the outcome of this
meeting in the village? He had met twelve men on the road and he had
noticed eight more at the store when he came by. They were all armed and
most likely there would be much drinking. Would they take this
opportunity to wipe out the remnant of the Morgans?
He had never seen old Jarred Morgan nor had he ever spoken to any of the
family, but right now his sympathy was with them. The picture which old
man Sanders had drawn of that lonely old man and a slip of a girl
holding the Morgan fort almost alone appealed to him. But what could
they do against a gang of twenty? No matter how brave they were, they
would be helpless.
Scott’s sense of fair play sent his fighting blood bounding through his
veins. He turned resolutely and hurried down the mountain. He thought
that he might be able to prevent that crime. He would help to protect
that plucky pair if he possibly could, and he would not care what
anybody thought about it. He did not admit it to himself, but probably
the greatest incentive was the opportunity to fight these insolent
Waits. He hurried on without a thought of the possible effects it might
have on his plans. Every minute he half expected to hear the shot which
would announce the beginning of the fight.
When he came out of the forest at the foot of the mountain, he was
relieved to see that everything looked peaceful in the village. The
station agent saw him coming and lounged out to the end of the platform
to meet him.
“Well, they are all in town to celebrate,” he drawled.
“I guess they are, judging from the procession I met coming down the
mountain,” Scott growled bitterly. “Do you think there will be any
trouble?”
The agent looked at him curiously. “Oh, I don’t believe they will bother
you any now. They think that you are their friend.”
Scott glared at the man indignantly. “I am not talking about myself. Do
you suppose I care what that gang thinks of me? But it occurred to me
that they might take this opportunity to catch the Morgans unprepared
and clean up what is left of them.”
“Oh, you mean that kind of trouble?” and the agent seemed greatly
relieved to find it out. “There won’t be any fight unless old Jarred
comes to town.”
“There will not be any at all if I can prevent it,” Scott replied
resolutely. “If there is any fight it will be a fair one and not a
murder of one old man by a gang like that. I wish I could find Hopwood.
You have not seen him, have you?”
The agent looked cautiously behind him and shook his head. “No, I
haven’t seen him since noon, but that is no reason why he may not be
sitting right here somewhere staring at us.”
Scott turned away. “Well, maybe I’ll run on to him. He seems to turn up
somehow when he is wanted.”
He dreaded passing that crowd at the store and yet he would not have
gone home any other way this afternoon for a hundred dollars. There
would almost certainly be some impudent remarks and Scott was almost
afraid to trust himself, but he made up his mind that he would not fight
with them no matter what happened till he had tried to persuade them to
drop the feud.
Purposely he kept out of sight behind some trees till he was not more
than fifty yards from the store. Then bracing himself for the coming
trial he walked casually out of the shadow. His eye took in the
situation at a glance, but he could not understand it.
Two lonely men sat silent and sullen on the porch of the Morgan store.
At least twenty crowded the porch of the store across the street,
laughing and gibing at a burly giant who was dragging a young girl
across the street by the hair. The girl’s head was bent down so that
Scott could not see her face, but he could imagine her expression. She
was not uttering a sound, but she was fighting with the fury of a
wildcat.
Scott’s blood boiled at the sight of a man mistreating a girl in this
way. Moreover, he recognized the man as the big fellow who had spoken to
him so insolently up on the mountain. Even before he realized what he
was doing he had covered the short distance and grabbed the man by the
arm. He had been a boxer all his life and had won the heavyweight
championship at college. He was calm now, as calm as he had ever been
when he stepped into the ring. This man was almost twice his size, but
he did not even notice it.
“Let go of that girl,” Scott commanded, and as he spoke he let go of the
man’s arm. He had grabbed it only to attract the man’s attention. He
knew that he could not hold this man in any such way and he was too good
a fighter to hold on and be jerked off his balance. The steely ring in
his voice was enough to hold any one’s attention now.
The man turned upon him furiously, but he did not let go of the girl.
Evidently he had expected to see a Morgan, for when his eyes fell on
Scott his mouth dropped open for a moment and he stared blankly.
“Did you hear what I said?” Scott insisted with suppressed fury.
A cunning leer came over the man’s sodden face. The spectators at the
two stores listened breathlessly.
“Quick work to get sweet on her so soon. Get out of the way, sonny, and
go get the papers ready for that logging contract.”
Quick as a flash Scott caught the big fellow a tremendous blow on the
jaw with the flat of his hand. If the man had been sober he would have
hit him with his fist, but he did not want to slug him when he was in
that helpless condition, much as he deserved it. Even as it was, the
slap was enough. The big man let go of the girl, stumbled, lost his
balance and sprawled his length on the ground, where he lay groping
helplessly for his gun and muttering curses.
The girl shook her long hair from her face and cast a look of furious
hatred at the fallen foe. Her chest was heaving from the desperate, but
futile, struggle. Turning slowly she swept a contemptuous glance over
the spectators on both porches. “Cowards!” she snapped with all the
concentrated contempt she could muster. She turned and walked slowly
down the street with all the dignity of a queen.
Much to Scott’s astonishment not a man had moved a hand to interfere
with him. He looked them over slowly to see if they were going to mob
him, but nobody moved or spoke. When he had stood there long enough to
avoid any appearance of running away, he cast a curious glance at the
retreating figure of the girl who had so completely ignored her rescuer,
and walked slowly away toward the hotel, trying to figure out what it
could all mean.
As he turned the corner of the hotel he almost laughed aloud. He was
thinking what the Waits must think of his friendship now.