"Say, we're five able-bodied men risking our necks to oblige him!
You can get married a damn sight easier than this if you go about
it right--I've done it lots of times." Not understanding the
significance of Slosson's allusion to his own matrimonial career,
Carrington held his peace. The tavern-beeper swore again with
unimpaired vigor. "You'll find mighty few men with more
experience than me," he asserted, shaking his head. "But if you
say the word--"
"I'm all for getting shut of this!" answered Carrington promptly,
with a sweep of his arm. "I call these pretty close quarters!"
Still shaking his head and muttering, the tavernkeeper sprang
ashore and mounted the bank, where his slouching figure quickly
lost itself in the night.
Carrington took up his station on the flat roof of the cabin
which filled the stern of the boat. He was remembering that day
in the sandy Barony road--and during all the weeks and months
that had intervened, Murrell, working in secret, had moved
steadily toward the fulfilment of his desires! Unquestionably he
had been back of the attack on Norton, had inspired his
subsequent murder, and the man's sinister and mysterious power
had never been suspected. Carrington knew that the horse-thieves
and slave stealers were supposed to maintain a loosely knit
association; he wondered if Murrell were not the moving spirit in
some such organization.
"If I'd only pushed my quarrel with him!" he thought bitterly.
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