at I wasn't trying to punish him
for what he said about things in general. You naturally got that idea, I
reckon; but I always went in for lettin' people say what they please and
think what they please; it's the only way in a free country."

"I'm afraid, Mr. Dryfoos, that it would make little difference to Lindau
now--"

"I don't suppose he bears malice for it," said Dryfoos, "but what I want
to do is to have him told so. He could understand just why I didn't
want to be called hard names, and yet I didn't object to his thinkin'
whatever he pleased. I'd like him to know--"

"No one can speak to him, no one can tell him," March began again, but
again Dryfoos prevented him from going on.

"I understand it's a delicate thing; and I'm not askin' you to do it.
What I would really like to do--if you think he could be prepared for
it, some way, and could stand it--would be to go to him myself, and tell
him just what the trouble was. I'm in hopes, if I done that, he could
see how I felt about it."

A picture of Dryfoos going to the dead Lindau with his vain regrets
presented itself to March, and he tried once more to make the old man
understand. "Mr. Dryfoos," he said, "Lindau is past all that forever,"
and he felt the ghastly comedy of it when Dryfoos continued, without
heeding him.

"I got a particular reason why I want him to believe it wasn't his
ideas I objected to--them ideas of his about the government carryin'
everything on and givin' work. I don't understand 'em exactly, but I
found a writin'--among--my son's-things" (he seemed to force the words
through his teeth), "and I reckon he--thought--that way. Kind of a
diary--where he--put down--his thoughts. My son and me--we differed
about a good-many things." His chin shook, and from time to time he
stopped. "I wasn't very good to him, I reckon; I crossed him where
I guess I got no business to cross him; but I thought everything
of--Coonrod. He was the best boy, from a baby, that ever was; just so
patient and mild, and done whatever he was told. I ought to 'a' let him
been a preacher! Oh, my son! my son!" The sobs could not be kept back
any longer; they shook the old man with a violence that made March
afraid for him; but he controlled himself at last with a series of
hoarse sounds like barks. "Well, it's all past and gone! But as I
understand you from what you saw, when Coonrod was--killed, he was
tryin' to save that old man from trouble?"

"Yes, yes! It seemed so