by Morgan Scott
CHAPTER XIX.
AN ENCOUNTER IN THE WOODS.
The one in advance from whose lips that angry question had been flung,was Berlin Barker. Phil Springer was following. Barker’s face wasalmost snow-white, made thus by the rage that was consuming him.Springer looked greatly disturbed, and he muttered to himself:
“Now there’s sure to be tut-trouble.”
“What do you mean by it?” again demanded Berlin, as he faced Rod ashort distance away, his gun gripped tightly in his glove-protectedhands.
“I didn’t know it was your dog.” Slowly and awkwardly he shifted hisposition, in order to face Berlin.
“You lie!” retorted Barker; and every nerve in Grant’s body went tautas a bowstring.
With excited yelps, old Rouser came bursting forth from the woods.
“There’s the dog I reckoned was running this rabbit,” explained theyoung Texan, his voice a trifle husky, yet remarkably steady.
“That old has-been!” sneered Barker. “Why, he isn’t worth a charge ofshot to put him out of the way; and he’s been bothering Silver Tongue.Of course you heard both dogs running.”
“Yes, but——”
“If you know anything at all, you certainly knew old Sawyer’s cripplewasn’t leading.”
“I saw Rouser take up a track. It’s your dog that mixed in andinterfered—if that is your dog.”
“You bet he’s mine! Just bought him for a fancy price, too, and I don’tpropose to have him spoiled by Sawyer’s worthless brute. I’ll settleit. Come here, Silver Tongue—come away and give me a chance.”
His gun half lifted and ready for use, Barker attempted to call his owndog away from the other. Divining the fellow’s purpose, Rod Grant tookthree hasty strides, placing himself between Rouser and Barker.
“Get out of the way!” snarled Barker. “If you don’t you’ll have achance to pick some shot out of your legs.”
The brown eyes of the boy from Texas glowed strangely, and he also heldhis shotgun ready for use.
“If I were in your place, my friend,” he said, “I wouldn’t try to shootold Rouser; for just as sure as you do you’ll have a chance to buryyour own dog.”
He meant it, too; there could be no doubt about that. Nor was he in theslightest degree intimidated by the menacing weapon in Barker’s hands.Shivering, Springer held his breath and watched those two lads gazingsteadily into each other’s eyes. At length Phil managed to speak.
“Quit it, bub-both of you!” he spluttered. “Be careful with those guns!”
“Which is right good advice for your friend,” said Rod, withoutpermitting his glance to waver for an instant from Barker. “If heshould shoot up old Rouser, it sure would be a shame to retaliate onhis innocent dog. I admit I’d feel much more like letting him have ithimself.”
“You hear that, do you, Phil?” cried Berlin.
“Yes,” answered Springer, “and bub-by jingoes, he looks like he mightdud-do it, too!”
In spite of himself and his intense rage, Barker wavered. For once, atleast, he had found no symptom of faltering or timidity in the fellowhe bitterly detested.
“Hey, what’s the matter over there?” cried a hoarse voice, and HunkRollins, breaking forth from a thicket, came shuffling toward them onsnowshoes, carrying a gun. They were now three to one against Grant,but still Rod stood his ground unmoved.
“He shot a rabbit in front of Berlin’s dud-dog,” hastily explainedSpringer, “and Berlin’s blazing mad about it, too.”
“What’s he doing here, anyhow?” questioned Rollins contemptuously.
“I allow,” said Rodney, something like a faint smile flitting acrosshis face, “that I have as much right to hunt rabbits hereabouts as youfellows.”
“Take his gun away from him!” roared Hunk. “Knock the packing out ofhim!”
But he stopped short with his first step toward the boy from Texas, forthe muzzle of Grant’s gun swung toward him, and Springer shouted awarning.
“Look out! He’ll shoot!”
“Gee!” gasped Rollins. “He don’t dast!”
“Don’t make any mistake about that,” advised Rodney. “It would be aclean case of self-defense, and only a fool would let you take his gunaway from him and beat him up.”
“Ginger!” gurgled Hunk. “I believe he means it!”
At this juncture Lander and Davis put in an appearance and cameforward, wondering at the tableau they beheld. Grant laughed aloud ashe saw them.
“Now we’re even as far as numbers are concerned,” he observed, suddenlyat his ease.
“What’s the row?” questioned Bunk, glaring at Barker. “We heard youfellers chewin’ the rag half a mile away, I guess.”
“Oh, there isn’t any row to speak of,” said Rodney. “Both of these dogswere running the rabbit yonder, which I happened to shoot. It chancedthat Barker’s dog was ahead of Rouser, and so Mr. Barker foolishly gota trifle warm under the collar. He made some silly talk about shootingold Rouser, but I don’t reckon he really meant it.”
“Oh, he did, hey?” shouted Lander, getting purple in the face.“Threatened to shoot Rouser, did he? Well, say! I’d like to see him tryit!”
“He won’t try it,” assured the boy from Texas. “He got all over thatinclination some time before you arrived, Bunk; but I had to tell himwhat would happen to his own dog if he didn’t hold up.”
“What a set of cheap skates!” sneered Berlin.
“Cheap skates, hey?” rasped Lander. “Well, if there’s anybody aroundthese parts cheaper than you are, he can be bought for less than acent. I know you pretty well of old, Barker. It was you who helped turnthe fellers against me, and you was mighty rejoiced when I got intothat little scrape two years ago. I don’t forget them things. Now youand your friends better chase yourselves and take your dog along withyou, if you care anything about him. We’re hunting here in this swamp,and we don’t propose to be bothered by you. Git!”
“We don’t cuc-care about hunting around here,” said Springer hastily.“Come on, Berlin.”
Although reluctant to be driven away, Barker, having cooled downsomewhat, began to entertain apprehensions for the safety of SilverTongue should he remain in that vicinity.
“Mr. Grant is very courageous—when he has a gun in his hands,” hesneered. “At any other time he’s a——”
“You’ve said that before,” interrupted Rod in a tone that made Berlinstart a bit in spite of himself. “Be careful that you don’t say it oncetoo often.”
Barker shrugged his shoulders and laughed. “I don’t have to say it;every fellow in Oakdale knows what you are. Come, Silver Tongue—come,sir. Come on, fellows; there are plenty of other places to run rabbits.”
“And, counting yourself and your friends, you make a fine bunch of dogsfor the purpose,” Lander flung after them.
In a few moments Barker and his companions disappeared into the woods,and soon the muttering of their voices died out in the distance.
“How’d you get here, anyhow, Roddy?” questioned Bunk, with a grin. “Weleft you ’way back yonder.”
“Yes,” nodded Grant; “but I reckoned there wouldn’t be much shootingover there, so I pulled my picket pin and moved. Here’s another rabbitfor that stew.”
“By jinks! Bunk,” said Spotty, “we ain’t shot one yet. We took him outto show him how ’twas done, and he’s showed us.”
“He showed Barker, too, I guess,” chuckled Lander. “Say, it done megood making that bunch turn tail and dig out. ’Tain’t more’n a mile tomy camp, if it’s that fur; let’s strike over that way, for I’ll have anappetite by the time we can dress the rabbits and the partridge and getthe stew cooked.”
“I’ve an appetite now,” declared Rod. “I’ve enjoyed the sport thismorning very much indeed.”
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