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
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.