SCOTT MEETS JARRED
Scott let the girl sit on the ground with her back against his knees and
watched the famous old man coming to protect his own. He presented a
striking figure striding along through the moonlight with hurried
dignity. His tall, gaunt form was as erect as that of a man of twenty,
and his step as springy. His ever present rifle hung comfortably across
the hollow of his arm. He cast one keen glance of suspicion at Scott and
knelt beside the girl.
“What is it, Vic?” he asked tenderly.
“I fell off old Dan,” she confessed sheepishly.
“Are you hurt?” he insisted anxiously.
“I have a knot on my head, and I twisted my leg,” she said.
“How under the sun did you come to fall off old Dan?” her grandfather
asked, as he laid down his long rifle and gathered her tenderly in his
arms. Scott stepped back a pace or two out of earshot.
“I was sitting on him sideways and he shied at a hound on top of the
bank down below Sanders’.”
“And this gentleman?” he asked, looking Scott squarely in the eye.
“He found me in the road and brought me home,” she replied shortly.
The old man straightened up with his burden and bowed solemnly to Scott.
“I thank you, sir.”
“I certainly am glad to have been of service to you,” Scott replied
cordially. “I hope to have the pleasure of calling on you in a day or so
if I may, so I will not intrude on you any longer at present.”
Jarred frankly looked him over from head to foot. “If you will be so
kind as to wait till I have taken the girl in the house I would like to
speak to you for a moment.”
“Certainly,” Scott answered politely. He liked the old man’s frank,
straightforward gaze, but it did not seem to him that steady eye looked
on him with much favor. Perhaps he was no more grateful than his
granddaughter. In less than five minutes he came out again to join
Scott. He came straight to the point.
“Sir, I am sorry that I could not invite you in, and I regret that I
have to appear discourteous to a man who has rendered me the service you
have.” Scott listened in silent astonishment and the old man continued.
“I owe you a debt which I can never repay for the kindness you have
shown my grandchild, but any man who aids my enemies can never be more
to me than a creditor, as much as I would like to have it otherwise.”
Scott was astonished at the old man’s courtly manner and fine English.
He did not learn till later that many of these mountaineers were
descendants of the old Huguenot families who were driven out of France
and had retained a wonderful purity of speech. He answered as earnestly
as he could.
“I do not know what you mean, Mr. Morgan, unless you refer to the rumor
that I am going to let the logging contract to the Waits.”
“You call it a rumor,” Jarred replied a little doubtfully. “It was
reported to me as a fact, apparently a very widely known fact,” he added
bitterly.
“I assure you that it is nothing more than a rumor and a false rumor at
that. I have not spoken more than half a dozen words to a Wait since I
came here.”
“That may all be true enough but did not your superior officer make the
promise for you?” Jarred asked with a slight sneer.
The sneer angered Scott but he knew that it was justified under the
circumstances.
“I, too, Mr. Morgan, have heard that Mr. Reynolds very rashly made some
informal promises to the Waits in regard to that contract. All I can say
is that he did it without conferring with me. I am entirely responsible
for letting that contract and I do not feel myself in any way bound by
what he may have said. I can assure you that there will be no contract
let to either the Waits or the Morgans unless they will agree to forget
their feud and take the contract together.”
Old Jarred looked him squarely in the eye for a minute before he
replied. Then he held out his hand. “I beg your pardon,” he said with
dignity. “You must charge my discourtesy to a mistake. I appreciate your
frankness and I want to be equally frank. Under those conditions there
will be no logging contract let here. Won’t you come in, sir?”
Scott had grasped the proffered hand eagerly. “Thank you, sir. I will
not come in now because it is late and you will be busy with the little
girl, but I would like to come up and talk things over with you
to-morrow.”
“We’ll be glad to see you any time,” Jarred answered cordially.
“Good night, sir. I hope the little girl’s injuries are not serious.”
“She’ll be all right to-morrow, I think. And thank you again for helping
her. Good night, sir.”
Scott turned down the mountain and left the old man standing in the
moonlight looking after him. He liked old Jarred; he was a man and a
gentleman. He did not wonder that he held the Waits at bay almost
unaided. One man like that could overawe a whole tribe of cowards such
as the Waits appeared to be.
And when Scott paused outside the hotel for a moment before going in, he
glanced admiringly up at the silvered mountainside where that staunch
old man was nursing his hate with such undaunted courage.