Then he was
released and stood back, sullen and defiant. For several moments not a
word was spoken.
Finally Dick Blake took a threatening step towards the Indian, and
shaking his fist in the latter's face exclaimed:
"Ye dirty coward! Ye'd do murder, would ye? Ye'd kill un, would ye?"
"Hold on," said Douglas, "'bide a bit. 'Twill do no good t' beat un,
though he's deservin' of it." Then to the half-breed: "An' what's
ailin' of ye th' evenin', John? 'Twas handy t' doin' murder ye were."
John saw the angry look in the men's eyes, and the cool judgment of
Douglas standing between him and bodily harm, and deciding that tact
was the better part of valour, changed his attitude of defiance to one
of reconciliation. He could not take revenge now for his fancied
wrong. His Indian cunning told him to wait for a better time. So he
extended his hand to Bob, who, dazed by the suddenness of the
unexpected attack, had not moved. "Shake hands, Bob, an' call it
square. I was hot with anger an' didn't know what I was doin'. We
won't quarrel."
Bob, acting upon the motto his mother had taught him--"Be slow to
anger and quick to forgive," took the outstretched hand with the
remark,
"'Twere a mighty kick I gave ye, John, an' enough t' anger ye, an' no
harm's done.
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