Larry roared my name through the lower floors. I

went down with no wish in my heart but to even matters

with Pickering and be done with my grandfather's

legacy for ever.

"The sheriff and Morgan have gone back toward the

lake," reported Larry.

"They've gone to consult their chief," I said. "I

wish Pickering would lead his own battalions. It would

give social prestige to the fight."

"Bah, these women!" And Larry tore the corner

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from a cartridge box.

Stoddard, with a pile of clubs within reach, lay on

his back on the long leather couch, placidly reading his

Greek testament. Bates, for the first time since my arrival,

seemed really nervous and anxious, He pulled a

silver watch from his pocket several times, something I

had never seen him do before. He leaned against the

table, looking strangely tired and worn, and I saw him

start nervously as he felt Larry's eyes on him.

"I think, sir, I'd better take another look at the outer

gates," he remarked to me quite respectfully.

His disturbed air aroused my old antagonism. Was

he playing double in the matter? Did he seek now an

excuse for conveying some message to the enemy?

"You'll stay where you are," I said sharply, and I

found myself restlessly fingering my revolver.

"Very good, sir,"-and the hurt look in his eyes

touched me.

"Bates is all right," Larry declared, with an emphasis

that was meant to rebuke me.




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