Hal judged that he had now exhausted his legal resources in Pedro; the Chief of Police had not suggested any one else he might call upon, so there seemed nothing he could do but go back to MacKellar's and await the hour of the night train to Western City. He started to give his guardians another run, by way of working off at least a part of his own temper; but he found that they had anticipated this difficulty. An automobile came up and the three of them stepped in. Not to be outdone, Hal engaged a hack, and so the expedition returned in pomp to MacKellar's. Hal found the old cripple in a state of perturbation. All that afternoon his telephone had been ringing; one person after another had warned him—some pleading with him, some abusing him. It was evident that among them were people who had a hold on the old man; but he was undaunted, and would not hear of Hal's going to stay at the hotel until train-time.
Then Keating returned, with an exciting tale to tell. Schulman, general manager of the “G. F. C.,” had been sending out messengers to hunt for him, and finally had got him in his office, arguing and pleading, cajoling and denouncing him by turns. He had got Cartwright on the telephone, and the North Valley superintendent had laboured to convince Keating that he had done the company a wrong. Cartwright had told a story about Hal's efforts to hold up the company for money. “Incidentally,” said Keating, “he added the charge that you had seduced a girl in his camp.”
Hal stared at his friend. “Seduced a girl!” he exclaimed.
“That's what he said; a red-headed Irish girl.”
“Well, damn his soul!”
There followed a silence, broken by a laugh from Billy. “Don't glare at me like that. I didn't say it!”
But Hal continued to glare, nevertheless. “The dirty little skunk!”
“Take it easy, sonny,” said the fat man, soothingly. “It's quite the usual thing, to drag in a woman. It's so easy—for of course there always is a wo............