The hostler yawned and mumbled and complained because he had been disturbed, but he fumbled for the lantern, lighted it, and gave it to Latisan, along with directions how to find the super's home.
That minor magnate was hard to wake, but he appeared at an open upper window after a time and listened.
"We can't spare a horse in mud time, with the hauling as heavy as it is. Who are you, anyway?"
"Hold that lantern up side of your face and let me see!"
"Excuse me for doubting your word of mouth," said the super, after he had assured himself, "but we hardly expected to see you back in this region." It was drawled with dry sarcasm.
"I haven't the time to argue on that, sir. I have business north of here. I'll hire a horse or I'll buy a horse."
"And you heard what I said, that I can't spare one. By the way, Latisan, you may as well understand that I won't do business with you, anyway. You got me in wrong with my folks and with the Three C's, too, when you bribed my men to load that dynamite."
"I can. My folks can. If we get saw logs this year we've got to buy 'em through Rufus Craig. When you ran away and let Ech Flagg get dished----"
"His drive is coming through," insisted Latisan, desperately, breaking in on speech in his turn.
"Where are you from, right now?" inquired the super.
"And a devil of a lot you must have found out about the prospect of logs from the independents, Flagg or anybody else. Don't come up here and try to tell me my business; I've been here all the time. Good night!" He banged down the window.
And once more Ward was alone in the night, distracted and desolate. This testing of the estimation in which he was held in the north country after the debacle in Adonia made his despondency as black as the darkness which surrounded him.
He wanted to call to the super and ask if at least he could buy the lantern. He decided it would be better to borrow it.
He set away afoot by the road which led to Adonia. Farms were scattered along the highway and he stopped at the first house and banged on the door and entreated. At two houses he was turned away relentlessly. The third farmer was a wrinkled old chap who came down to the door, thumbing his suspenders over his shoulders.