The Call of the Cumberlands

"I've been greatly annoyed to find," he said, seating himself on

Samson's bed, "that Horton arrived to-day."

"I reckon that's all right," said Samson. "He's a member, isn't he?"

Farbish appeared dubious.

"I don't want to appear in the guise of a prophet of trouble," he

said, "but you are my guest here, and I must warn you. Horton thinks of

you as a 'gun-fighter' and a dangerous man. He won't take chances with

you. If there is a clash, it will be serious. He doesn't often drink,

but to-day he's doing it, and may be ugly. Avoid an altercation if you

can, but if it comes--" He broke off and added seriously: "You will

have to get him, or he will get you. Are you armed?"

The Kentuckian laughed.

"I reckon I don't need to be armed amongst gentlemen."

Farbish drew from his pocket a magazine pistol.

"It won't hurt you to slip that into your clothes," he insisted.

For an instant, the mountaineer stood looking at his host and with

eyes that bored deep, but whatever was in his mind as he made that

scrutiny he kept to himself. At last, he took the magazine pistol,

turned it over in his hand, and put it into his pocket.

"Mr. Farbish," he said, "I've been in places before now where men were

drinking who had made threats against me. I think you are excited about

this thing. If anything starts, he will start it."

At the dinner table, Samson South and Wilfred Horton were introduced,

and acknowledged their introductions with the briefest and most formal

of nods. During the course of the meal, though seated side by side,

each ignored the presence of the other. Samson was, perhaps, no more

silent than usual. Always, he was the listener except when a question

was put to him direct, but the silence which sat upon Wilfred Horton

was a departure from his ordinary custom.

He had discovered in his college days that liquor, instead of

exhilarating him, was an influence under which he grew morose and

sullen, and that discovery had made him almost a total abstainer.

To-night, his glass was constantly filled and emptied, and, as he ate,

he gazed ahead, and thought resentfully of the man at his side.

When the coffee had been brought, and the cigars lighted, and the

servants had withdrawn, Horton, with the manner of one who had been

awaiting an opportunity, turned slightly in his chair, and gazed

insolently at the Kentuckian.