Justin Wingate, Ranchman
s did not forg
he felt Justin had subjected him; but deep in his heart he nursed both for Philip Davison and Ju
than the discovery which came to him one day of
ponchos, ropes and spurs, sat Davison, at a small unpainted table, counting out money to his employes and keeping a record of the amounts paid by writing names and sums with a stub pencil in a soiled account book. Davison was fifty years of age now, red-faced, blue-eyed, and bearded. Justin had learned to admire a
out behind the bunk house, and was counting his bills in the drizzle tha
this time
g to the muddy sole, was a five-dollar bill. He pulled it away with a chuckle,
him, with a look
ted that bill to the floor. I set my boot on i
dn't do
y more where that came from. He only pays me beastly cowboy's wage
eproof, and Ben flushe
ell, wou
s stea
ge of his wrong, this blunt condemnation roused the latent devil
t when that blow fell on his face with stinging force, his head became unaccountably hot, he trembled violently, an
en but a moment before they had been friends! He stared at Ben, who had dropped heavily
said, wiping a speck of blood fro
as your
g heard the blows and the fall. He saw Ben's cut and quivering lip, his clo
ck Ben?"
s his
im, after an appea
ntant uneasiness. He had gained Ben's enmity, and he feared
r the wad of bills, and t
irst," he confessed. "We had a litt
he was older, and it humiliate
s annoyed
Ben," he commanded;
gone he tur
your work; but you must remember that Ben is my son. I
stin urged, "and I shouldn't have d
quarreling and fighting. J
ily, though deeply troubled by the knowl
ive rage, yet he still felt its influence. That he could have struck Ben in that way seemed incredible; yet
at way! You knocked me down, but I don't hold it
l have th
cour
nged my opinio
ce redde
r's is mine, or it will be mine some day; I just took a little of it ahea
defiant views on many subjects, but nothing like th
n you talk that way," he d