The Heart of Thunder Mountain Part 17

"But what were you doing over there?" demanded Huntington.

"Riding," she said calmly, perhaps a little defiantly.

"Yes, I know that. But on his land?"

"Did you ever tell me anything about that?" she retorted.

"No, but--"

"Then how was I to know?"

"But you've heard--"

"Yes, I heard some things at the post-office. You've told me nothing."

Huntington's face reddened angrily.

"Never mind that now!" cried Claire sharply, sending another warning look at Seth. "Go on, dear!"

Marion went on, very carefully. With Claire alone she might have been more frank and confiding, but Seth's belligerent att.i.tude had begun to stir resentment in her.

"He thought I had a bad sprain. He was annoyed; he didn't take any pains to conceal that from me. But he lifted me into the saddle, and rode with me to his stable, and told one of his men to hitch up a team, and drive me home. That would have been--all right, and he had no intention--until--something I said--I must have been hysterical--something made him angry, and he--said he would drive me home himself."

"And you let him!" cried Claire reproachfully.

"No, I didn't _let_ him. He did it in spite of all I could do. I pleaded with him, I tried every way to stop him. Once I started to leap out of the trap. But he caught me. He laughed at me But he was very angry too; he scolded me dreadfully. Said I needed to be punished for--I don't know what. He hates women, and says we're always meddling in men's affairs. It served me right, of course. And please remember it was all my fault--truly!"

"Did he say anything about making peace?" asked Claire.

"No. That was all mine. I had to do something quickly. You know that."

"But what did he say about me?" growled Huntington, who was far from satisfied, and still suspicious.

"Not much. Oh, yes!" she added impulsively. "He said you and he could probably come to an understanding quickly enough if--"

She paused, embarra.s.sed.

"If what?" demanded Huntington.

"That was only because he dislikes women, I think. He said--if Claire--Mrs. Huntington, he said,--would let you alone."

"I?" cried Claire. It was almost a scream of astonishment and indignation.

"I'll show him!" shouted Huntington. "He'd better keep her name out of it, or I'll--"

"I haven't done anything!" wailed Claire.

"I'll make him pay for that!" bellowed Huntington, bringing his fist down on the mantel.

"You mustn't blame him!" protested Marion hastily. "He was angry at me, and I don't think he's as bad as you think he is."

"Marion!" cried Claire, her eyes widening with wonder.

Then Marion had the misfortune to blush under Claire's curious gaze.

She blushed, at first, merely because she had gone too far in her effort to clear Haig of responsibility for what had occurred that evening; and then the blood stormed into her cheeks as she encountered Claire's look, and attached a deeper meaning to it than it actually conveyed.

Huntington leaned forward, and gazed suspiciously into Marion's crimsoned face.

"Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned!" he broke out. "You'd think the girl was in love with this ruffian!"

For an instant there was a silence much like the silence that follows a clap of thunder. Then Marion rose slowly to her feet, quivering, her eyes ablaze.

"Ruffian?" she cried. "If there's any ruffian it's--"

She caught herself. She was innately gentle and fastidious, and she could not, without shame, have forced her lips to say the things that she felt in her outraged heart. But she looked at him; and under that look Seth quailed and shrank. What had he said to evoke this luminous hatred? He had not meant--

"And I think she's right, Seth Huntington!" exclaimed Claire, coming to Marion, and putting an arm, around her. "If there's any ruffian it's you, and I'm ashamed of you!"

Huntington's jaw dropped, and he stared at them, his eyes bulging with astonishment. Then suddenly he turned, and bolted from the room. The door leading to the kitchen was flung shut behind him; then the outer door banged; and in a moment his heavy footsteps were heard on the veranda, where he strode to and fro in helpless rage and shame and wonder. He had a feeling of soreness over all his body, as if some one had roundly pummelled him; his face itched beneath his beard; he could not find a comfortable place for his hands. Well, he agreed with Haig about one thing: women were h.e.l.l! And here was Claire siding with Marion against him; and calling him a ruffian! Was he a ruffian? What had he said to merit that? Couldn't they take a joke? But this casuistry did not go down, though he tried to hammer it down with many violent gestures. He began to have certain qualms that he recognized as premonitory signs of weakening; and he struggled to bolster up his anger. d.a.m.n Haig! If he had only finished him that day in the timber, when the others had wanted to! But this was a vain regret. There remained the present situation. Gradually his steps faltered. He stopped often to look vacantly at the stars. They had nothing to say to him. He felt very solitary, alone in the world.

After a time the kitchen door was opened softly.

"Seth!" came a whisper from that direction.

"Well?" he answered uncertainly.

"Aren't you cold?"

"No."

"Well, we are. The fire's going out."

"Umph!"

"Won't you please fetch some wood?"

No reply. Claire slipped out, and crept up to him.

"Come!" she commanded softly. "Do you want us to freeze?"

Still no reply.

"Oh, you do, do you?"

"It's time you went to bed."

"No, it isn't. We're not going to bed until you come in and beg Marion's pardon."

"No, I'll be--"