Part 24 (1/2)

The elderly spokesman of the delegation flushed brick-red and his heavy lashes gathered close in a menacing scowl.

”No man didn't love Caleb Harper no better'n me,” he protested, indignantly, ”but ef we've got ter fight hit profits us ter hit fust--an' hit hard.”

”Now, I've got somethin' ter tell ye,” went on Parish, and though they did not know just when or how the change had been wrought, each of the three visitors began to realize that a subtle s.h.i.+fting of places had come over their relations to their host.

At first they had spoken categorically and he had listened pa.s.sively.

Now when he spoke they felt the compulsion of hearkening to him as to one whose words carried authority. Personalities had been measured as are foils in the hands of fencers, and Parish Thornton was being recognized to hold the longest and keenest blade.

”I've done sought ter show ye, outen yore own mouths,” he said, soberly, ”thet at one an' ther same time ye was demandin' ter know what I aimed ter do an' tellin' me I couldn't do nothin'. Now I tells ye thar's one thing I jedgmatically _hain't_ a-goin' ter do, an' thet is ter stand by an' suffer them two mill-stones ter grind me ter no powder.”

He paused, and the girl had moved forward until she stood at his side with her outstretched hand resting against the bark of the old tree in a reverent touch of caress. She ignored the others and spoke to her husband.

”Back thar in ther beginnin's, Cal,” she said, clinging to the name by which she had first known him, ”our foreparents planted this tree--an'

founded this country--an' held hit erginst ther Injuns. They was leaders then--afore any man hed ever heered of Cappers an' Squireses an' ther like. I reckon ef men needs a leader now, hit runs in yore blood ter be one ... but a leader fer betterment--an' one thet gives orders 'stid of takin' 'em.”

She turned then, and with her chin regally high, she left them, and a brief silence held after her going.

”I reckon I couldn't hardly hev said hit thet well, myself,” announced Parish Thornton, quietly, ”but yit hit erbout sums up my answer ter ye.”

”Whatever ye says from now on, erbout takin' me er leavin' me, ther _enemy's_ done picked me out es ther head man of ther Harpers--an' what they'd love best would be ter see ye all cavillin' amongst yoreselves.

Caleb Harper picked me out, too. Now I aims ter stand by his choosin'--an' I aims ter be heeded when I talks.”

Aaron and Parish stood eye to eye, searching and measuring each other with gazes that sought to penetrate the surface of words and reach the core of character. The older man, angry, and insulted though he felt himself, began to realize about his heart the glow of that unwilling admiration which comes of compulsion in the presence of human mastery and pays tribute to inherent power. The quiet a.s.surance of this self-announced chieftain carried conviction that made argument idle--and above all else the Thorntons needed an unchallengeable leader.

”Afore G.o.d,” he murmured, ”I believes ye're a _man_!” Then after a pause he added: ”But n.o.body don't know ye well enough--an' afore a man kin be trusted ter give orders he's got ter prove hisself.”

Parish Thornton laughed.

”Prove yoreself, then, Aaron,” he challenged, ”ye talks erbout yore hunger ter avenge yore dead boys--albeit they fell in a pitch-battle an'

ye don't know who deadened 'em--an' ther fire of thet wrath's been coolin' fer a full score of ya'rs. Why did ye let hit simmer so long?”

”Because I was pledged ter peace an' I wasn't no truce-buster. I sought ter remain steadfast and bide my time.”

”All right. Then ef fresh war-farin' kin be carc.u.mvented, ye still stands beholden by thet pledge, don't ye?”

”Ef hit kin be, yes--but how kin hit be?”

”Thet's what I aims ter show ye. Ye talks erbout yore grievance. Now listen ter mine. Ther bullit wound hyar in my shoulder hain't healed yit--an' thar hain't no hotter fire in h.e.l.l then my own hate fer whoever caused hit. So when ye talks ter me about grievances, ye talks a language I kin onderstand without no lingster ter construe hit.”

He paused a moment, unconscious that his term for an interpreter was one that Englishmen had used in Chaucer's day, and, save here, not since a long-gone time. Then he swept on, and Sim Squires listening to this man whom for hire he had waylaid felt an unmanning creep of terror along his spine; a fear such as he had not felt for any human being before. The sweat on his face grew clammy, but with a mighty effort he held his features mask-like.

”But atter you an' me hed evened our scores--what then? Air ye willin'

ter burn down a dwellin' house over ther heads of them inside hit, jest ter scorch out a feisty dog that's done molested ye? Is thet leadin' men forwards--or jest backwards like a crawfish?”

”Ye talks,” said Aaron Capper, sharply, ”like es if I'd stirred up an'

provoked tribulation. Them fellers air a-plottin' tergither right now over at old Hump Doane's house--an' h.e.l.l's broth air a-brewin' thar.”