down,--that we'll have to UNDO what we've DONE,--we don't agree with
you, for we've taken a leaf outer your own book. We've got it here
in black and white. We've got a bill o' sale of Hooker's house and
possession, and we're on the land in place of him,--AS YOUR TENANTS."
He reentered the shanty, took a piece of paper from a soap-box on the
shell, and held it out to Clarence. "Here it is. It's a fair and square
deal, Brant. We gave him, as it says here, a hundred dollars for it! No
humbuggin', but the hard cash, by Jiminy! AND HE TOOK THE MONEY."
The ring of truth in the man's voice was as unmistakable as the
signature in Jim's own hand. Hooker had sold out! Clarence turned
hastily away.
"We don't know where he went," continued Gilroy grimly, "but I reckon
you ain't over anxious to see him NOW. And I kin tell ye something to
ease your mind,--he didn't require much persuadin'. And I kin tell ye
another, if ye ain't above takin' advice from folks that don't pertend
to give it," he added, with the same curious look of interest in his
face. "You've done well to get shut of him, and if you got shut of a few
more of his kind that you trust to, you'd do better."
As if to avoid noticing any angry reply from the young man, he reentered
the cabin and shut the door behind him. Clarence felt the uselessness of
further parley, and rode away.
But Gilroy's Parthian arrow rankled as he rode. He was not greatly
shocked at Jim's defection, for he was always fully conscious of
his vanity and weakness; but he was by no means certain that Jim's
extravagance and braggadocio, which he had found only amusing and,
perhaps, even pathetic, might not be as provocative and prejudicial
to others as Gilroy had said. But, like all sympathetic and unselfish
natures, he sought to find some excuse for his old companion's weakness
in his own mistaken judgment. He had no business to bring poor Jim on
the land, to subject his singular temperament to the temptations of
such a life and such surroundings; he should never have made use of his
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