The Land of Strong Men Part 44

"In what particular?"

"They don't seem to explain."

"What do you mean by that?" G.o.dfrey French rasped. "Do you mean that you question the truth of my words?" He frowned at Angus angrily.

"You are putting words into my mouth," Angus replied. "But I mean just this: The land was worth only about a quarter of what was paid for it.

You and Braden both knew it. If you had told Winton that, he wouldn't have paid what he did unless he was crazy. I wonder why you let him pay it. Now you want to buy back worthless land, and I wonder why."

Their eyes met and held each other. In those of each was suspicion, hostility. French moistened dry lips.

"I admire your frankness," he said. "Have you told my niece that in your opinion the land is worthless?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I would rather not say."

"I insist on an answer."

"Very well," Angus returned. "I did not tell her, because she would have wondered what sort of a man you were to let her father load himself up with stuff like that, and I was not trying to make trouble."

G.o.dfrey French's fists clenched. "Thirty years ago," he said, "for that you should have proved to me what sort of a man _you_ were."

"Well, I can't help your age," Angus retorted. "I would not have told you, but you would have it."

"There are some things," said G.o.dfrey French, "which it seems you do not understand. But understand this very clearly. Hereafter you will keep your nose out of things that don't concern you. You will keep away from me and mine, which includes my niece. Do you understand that?"

"I hear what you say," Angus returned. "But n.o.body but herself is going to forbid me to go to your niece's ranch."

"I forbid you," said G.o.dfrey French. "I won't have you hanging around there. I won't have her name coupled with yours."

"I did not know it was being coupled," Angus said, "and I do not think it is. But if it is--what then?"

"What then!" G.o.dfrey French exclaimed. "Have you the consummate impudence to imagine that my niece would think twice of an ignorant young hawbuck without birth or education? Bah! You're a young fool!"

At the words, entirely insolent, vibrant with contempt, a hot fire of anger began to blow within Angus. With all his heart he wished that G.o.dfrey French had been minus the thirty years he had regretted.

"Those are hard words," he said, and it was characteristic of him that as his anger rose his voice was very quiet.

"True words," G.o.dfrey French returned.

"At any rate," Angus told him, "I make a clean living by hard work."

"And I suppose you think 'A man's a man for a' that,'" G.o.dfrey French sneered. "Don't give me any rotten nonsense about democracy and equality."

"I am not going to," Angus replied. "I think myself that every tub should stand on its own bottom. But if, as you seem to think, there is something in a man's blood, then perhaps mine is as good as your own."

"Fine blood!" G.o.dfrey French commented with bitter irony. "Wild, hairy Highlanders, caterans and reivers for five hundred years!"

"Ay," Angus Mackay agreed with a grim smile, "and maybe for five hundred years back of that. But always pretty men of their hands, good friends and bad enemies, and ill to frighten or drive." Then, following the custom of his blood, he returned insult for insult. He launched it deliberately, coldly. "And it is not claiming much for the blood of a Mackay to say it is as good as that which comes from any shockheaded kernes sp.a.w.ned by a Galway bog."

White to his twitching lips, G.o.dfrey French struck him in the face.

Angus caught his hand, but made no attempt to return the blow.

"I think you had better go," he said. "You have too many years on your head for me."

G.o.dfrey French stepped back.

"That is my misfortune," he said. "Well--I have sons. Remember what I told you, young man."

"I will remember," Angus said, "and I will do as I please. If your sons try to make your words good they will find a rough piece of road."

He watched G.o.dfrey French drive away, and turned back to his work. But presently he gave it up, sat down and stared at vacancy. For an hour he sat, and was aroused from his brown study by Jean.

"I've called and called you," she told him.

"For what?"

"For supper, of course. Heavens, Angus, what's wrong that you forget your meals?"

He did not answer for a moment.

"I have been making up my mind about something."

"About what?"

"Just something I am going to do. I will tell you later."

He ate supper, and immediately saddled Chief and rode away in the direction of Faith Winton's ranch.

Faith listened in amazement as he told her of the high price her father had paid; of the abortive sale and his discovery that the land was non-irrigable; and finally of French's request that he should advise her to sell.

"But why didn't you tell me these things before?"

"I could not very well tell you while you were under his roof."

"No, I suppose not. You are sure of what you say--that the land could have been bought for so much less then, and that I can't get water on it now?"

"Absolutely."

"Then why does he want to buy the ranch now?"

"I wish I knew."

"I am going to find out before I sell it. He lied about Blake, and I don't believe he just wants to take it off my hands. There is some other reason."

"I think so myself, but I don't know what it is. There is something else though. We had a few hard words, and the upshot of the whole thing was that he forbade me to have anything to do with him or his. I suppose he has that right. But also he forbade me to come here."