CHAPTER XII
THE QUARREL
Duncan's first impulse, begotten by the sudden anger that blazedwithin him, was to resent most bitterly the threat thus made againsthim. But, behind his anger, he was conscious of a certain feeling ofrespect and admiration for this frank-faced, keen-eyed young Montanaranchman. He saw plainly that Morton was in deadly earnest in what hehad said; but he realized, also, that Morton's resentment, as well asthe threat he had made, was due, not to any personal feeling harboredagainst the man he now faced, but was entirely the result of the senseof chivalry which the Western cowboy inevitably feels for every woman.Duncan understood, thoroughly, that Morton's sole desire was toannounce himself as prepared to protect, to the last ditch, the youngwoman with whom he had fallen so desperately in love; and for thisDuncan respected and esteemed the man.
In this instance, Duncan was a good reader of character, and, beforeventuring to reply to the last remark of Morton's, he compelledhimself to silence; he tried to put himself in this young man's place,wondering the while if under like circumstances he would have had thecourage to do as Morton had done.
"Sit down again, Mr. Morton," he said, presently, waving his handtoward the chair the ranchman had previously occupied.
"No, sir; not until you have answered me."
Duncan smiled, now. He had entirely regained his composure, and wasthoroughly master of his own ugly temper, and of the situation, also,as he believed.
"Mr. Morton," he said, "when you entered this room, I did you thehonor to listen to your unprecedented statement, without interruption.I now ask you to treat me as fairly as I treated you. Be seated, Mr.Morton, and hear what I have to say."
The ranchman flushed hotly, at once realizing that this youngpatrician of the East, had, for the moment got the better of him. Heresumed his seat upon the chair, and absent-mindedly withdrew from oneof his pockets a book of cigarette-papers and a tobacco-pouch.
"Morton," said Duncan, "I am going to speak to you as man to man; justas I think you would like to have me do. I am going to meet you onyour own ground, that of perfect frankness; for I do you the honor tobelieve that you are entirely sincere in your attitude, in yourconduct, and in what you have said to me."
"You're sure right about that, Mr. Duncan. Whatever may be said aboutDick Morton, there is nobody--at least nobody that's now alive--whohas ever cast any doubts upon my sincerity, or my willingness to backup whatever I may have to say."
"You came here out of the West, Morton, and, as you express it, met upwith Patricia Langdon. In your impulsive way, you fell deeply in lovewith her, almost at first sight."
"That's no idle dream."
"You conceived the idea that she wore nobody's brand, which is anotherexpression of your own, which I take to mean that you thought heraffections were disengaged."
"That was the way I sized it up, Mr. Duncan."
"Therefore, I will tell you that Patricia and I have been intimatecompanions, since our earliest childhood. I can't remember when I havenot thought her superior to any other woman, and I have alwaysbelieved, as I now believe, that deep down in her inmost heart sheloves me quite as well as I love her. There was an unfortunatecircumstance, connected with our present engagement, which,unfortunately, I cannot explain to you, since it is another's secret,and not mine. But I shall explain, so far as to say that thecircumstance deeply offended her; that when she made the remark toyou, in the automobile, which aroused your resentment, she did it inanger; that, far from coercing her in this matter, I have not done so,and have not thought of doing so; and, lastly, I shall tell you, quitefrankly, that the engagement between Patricia and myself and the dateof the wedding which is to follow are both matters which she has hadfull power to arrange to her own satisfaction."
Duncan hesitated a moment, and then, as Morton made no response, hesuddenly extended Patricia's letter, which he still held in his hand.
"Read that," he said. "I don't know why I show it to you, save that Ifeel the impulse to do so. It is entirely a confidentialcommunication, and I call upon you to treat it as such. But read theletter from Patricia Langdon, which I have just received, Mr. Morton;it will probably make you wiser on many points that now confound you."
Morton accepted the letter, but the lines of his face were hard andunrelenting; his jaws and lips were shut tightly together; hisaggressive chin was thrust forward just a little bit, and his hazeleyes were cold and uncompromising in their expression.
He read the letter through to the end, without a change of expression;then, he read it a second time, and a third. At last, he slowly lefthis seat, and, stepping forward, placed the document, which he hadrefolded, upon the table. He reached for his hat, and smoothed ittentatively with the palm of one of his big hands. But all the whilehe kept his eyes fixed sternly upon the face of the young Croesus hehad gone there to interview.
"Mister Roderick Duncan," he drawled, in a low, even tone, "I don'tsavvy this business, a little bit. Just for the moment, I don't knowwhat to make of you, or of Miss Langdon, but I am going to work it outto some sort of a conclusion; and, when I have found the answer to thequestions that puzzle me now, I'll let you know."
He moved quickly toward the door, but with the lightness of a pantherDuncan sprang between it and him.
"One moment, Morton," he said, coldly.
"Well, sir?"
"I have been very patient with you, and extremely considerate, Ithink, of your importunities and your insolence; but you try mypatience almost too far. Take my advice, and don't meddle any fartherin matters that do not, and cannot, concern you."
For a moment, the two men faced each other in silence, and both wereangry. Duncan was not less tall than Morton, but was slighter ofbuild, and very different--with the difference that will never ceaseto exist between the well-groomed thoroughbred of many experiencesand the blooded young colt. Morton's wrath flamed to the surface, and,forgetting for the moment that he was not upon his native heath, thathe was not dressed and accoutred as was his habit when riding therange, he reached down for the place where his holster andcartridge-belt would have been located had he been dressed in thecowboy costume of his native Montana.
It was a gesture as natural to the young ranchman as it was tobreathe, and he was ashamed of it the instant it was made. He wouldhave apologized had he been given time to do so. Indeed, he did flushhotly, in his confusion. But Duncan, quite naturally, misinterpretedthe act. He thought, and with good reason, that Morton was reachingfor his gun; the flush of shame on Morton's cheeks served only tostrengthen the conviction. And so, with a cat-like swiftness, he tookone step forward and seized the wrist of Morton's right arm, twistingit sharply and bending it backward with the same motion, whereby theranchman was thrown away from him, and was brought up sharply againstthe table, in the middle of the room.
Duncan was smiling again now; but it was the smile of intense anger,and not pleasant to see. Without waiting for Morton to recoverhimself, Duncan calmly turned his back upon the ranchman, and threwopen the door; then, stepping away from it, he said, with quietdignity:
"This is your way out, sir."