Part 16 (1/2)

”Oh, I guess they will get through all right,” Douglas replied.

”No, ye'd better go,” the teamster urged. ”Ben'll be as mad as the devil if ye don't. If ye won't, then I'll have to git down an' do it.

There, he's tootin' his horn agin. He's pretty mad, I can tell ye that.”

Carrying his fork over his shoulder, Douglas walked deliberately across the field toward the gate. He did not wish to hurry, as he wanted to see how angry Ben could become, and what he would do.

”Get a move on there, you lazy devil!” Ben shouted. ”Didn't you hear the horn?”

Douglas had almost reached the gate, when he suddenly stopped and stared at the man in the car. He had seen that face before only for a few seconds beneath the electric light at Long Wharf on the waterfront.

But he would have known it anywhere, for it had been indelibly impressed upon his memory. So Ben Stubbles was the contemptible coward who had pushed that woman into the water and left her to her fate! He had often longed to come face to face with that man, and he had planned what he would do when they met. But here he was before him, haughty and impudent, Nell's lover, and the son of the autocrat of Rixton.

”What in h---- are you staring at?” Ben demanded. ”Didn't you ever see human beings before? Open the gate, and be d.a.m.ned quick about it, too.”

The blood surged madly through Douglas' veins, and to relieve his feelings he clutched the gate and tore it open. The occupants of the car were greatly amused at his alacrity, and attributed it to fear.

”That stirred your stumps, all right, didn't it?” Ben sneered, as the car lurched past and then sped up the drive-way.

Douglas closed the gate, fastened it, and hastened to the barn where the teamster was awaiting him. He climbed into the loft and stowed away the hay as it was handed up to him. At times he hardly knew what he was doing, so greatly was his mind agitated. Why had he not given that fellow the sound thras.h.i.+ng he deserved? And yet he was thankful that he had controlled himself, as he might have spoiled all his plans had he given way to hasty action. He worked with a feverish haste all that afternoon, and talked but little. This change puzzled the teamster, and he advised him to take his time.

”It's no use killin' yerself,” he told him. ”Si Stubbles won't thank ye if ye work yer head off.”

”I want to get through with this job,” Douglas replied. ”I'm not working by the day as you are, and Jake needs me.”

When the last of the hay had been unloaded, Douglas left the barn and started for the road. He had not seen Ben since the encounter at the gate, and he was hoping that he would not meet him again that afternoon. He did not feel altogether sure of himself, and he needed time and quietness to think carefully over what he had better do.

He was part way down to the road when he heard some one calling.

Stopping and looking back, he saw that it was Ben hurrying after him.

As he approached, Douglas saw that his manner was altogether changed, and he seemed quite affable. He was dressed in a white tennis-suit, and he looked cool and self-possessed.

”Say,” he began, ”I understand you play the fiddle.”

”Well, what of it?” Douglas curtly questioned.

”You really do, then?”

”Yes, when I feel like it.”

”Won't you feel like it to-night? You see, there's to be a dance in the hall this evening, but the man who generally plays is sick.”

”Can't you get any one else?”

”No one who can really play. There is a chap who tries to, but you would think he was filing a saw instead of playing a fiddle.”

”Perhaps I can't do any better.”

”Oh, you'll be all right. Jake and his wife have heard you, and so has Empty.”

”And Empty spread the report, did he?”