"Um!..." grunted Scattergood, "don't seem to recall any statute
forbiddin' any young feller to git him any gal he kin. Eh?"
"No. But this Curtis--there's something wrong there. He isn't intending
to play fair.... I--He's got some kind of a purpose, Mr. Baines."
"Think so, eh? What kind of a purpose?" Scattergood had his own ideas on
this subject, but did not disclose them. It was in his mind that Curtis
cultivated Sarah because of Sarah's propinquity of a certain paper which
the man had reason to believe was in Bob Allen's safe.
Bob's face was set and stern, granite as the hills among which he had
been born and which had become a part of his nature. "If he doesn't play
fair ... if he should--hurt her ... I'd take him apart, Mr. Baines."
"Calc'late you would," said Scattergood, tranquilly, "but there's a law
in sich case, made and pervided, callin' that kind of amusement
murder ..."
It was not Scattergood's custom to publish his emotions; nevertheless
he was worried. He appreciated the state of mind which had brought Sarah
to Coldriver--the spirit of restless, resentful youth, demanding the
world for its plaything.
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