Horton stood silently studying the mountaineer.
"Good God!" he exclaimed at last. "And you are the man I undertook to
criticize!"
"You ain't answered my question," suggested Samson South.
"South, if you are willing to shake hands with me, I shall be
grateful. I may as well admit that, if you had thrashed me before that
crowd, you could hardly have succeeded in making me feel smaller. I
have played into their hands. I have been a damned fool. I have riddled
my own self-respect--and, if you can afford to accept my apologies and
my hand, I am offering you both."
"I'm right glad to hear that," said the mountain boy, gravely. "I told
you I'd just as lief shake hand as fight.... But just now I've got to
go to the telephone."
The booth was in the same room, and, as Horton waited, he recognized
the number for which Samson was calling. Wilfred's face once more
flushed with the old prejudice. Could it be that Samson meant to tell
Adrienne Lescott what had transpired? Was he, after all, the braggart
who boasted of his fights? And, if not, was it Samson's custom to call
her up every evening for a good-night message? He turned and went into
the hall, but, after a few minutes, returned.
"I'm glad you liked the show...." the mountaineer was saying. "No,
nothing special is happening here--except that the ducks are
plentiful.... Yes, I like it fine.... Mr. Horton's here. Wait a minute
--I guess maybe he'd like to talk to you."
The Kentuckian beckoned to Horton, and, as he surrendered the
receiver, left the room. He was thinking with a smile of the
unconscious humor with which the girl's voice had just come across the
wire: "I knew that, if you two met each other, you would become friends."
"I reckon," said Samson, ruefully, when Horton joined him, "we'd
better look around, and see how bad those fellows are hurt in there.
They may need a doctor." And the two went back to find several startled
servants assisting to their beds the disabled combatants, and the next
morning their inquiries elicited the information that the gentlemen
were all "able to be about, but were breakfasting in their rooms."
Such as looked from their windows that morning saw an unexpected
climax, when the car of Mr. Wilfred Horton drove away from the club
carrying the man whom they had hoped to see killed, and the man they
had hoped to see kill him. The two appeared to be in excellent spirits
and thoroughly congenial, as the car rolled out of sight, and the
gentlemen who were left behind decided that, in view of the
circumstances, the "extraordinary spree" of last night had best go
unadvertised into ancient history.