“I’ll be there in an hour,” Kite told him. And Amos said that was all right, and hung up the receiver. Immediately, he telephoned Peter Gergue to come right over, and Peter joined him at breakfast in ten minutes. It was not even necessary for old Maria to set an extra plate for Peter. Agnes had overslept--she nearly always did oversleep--and Amos was breakfasting alone, with Agnes’s empty place across the table from him. Peter sat down there, and Amos helped him to fried eggs and bacon, and Maria gave him a cup of coffee. Amos said at once: “Kite just called up, Peter. He’s coming over.” Gergue swallowed a gulp of coffee. “Guessed he would,” he assented. “Guessed he’d have things to say to you.” “What do you guess he’s got to say to me, Peter?” Amos asked. “He’ll want you to call Wint off, I’d say.” Amos looked politely regretful, as though he were talking to Kite. “Why, now, you know, Wint’s his own boss. He does what he wants to do. I never saw any one that could run Wint, did you?” “Not if Wint knew it, I never did.” “What have you heard, Peter?” Amos asked. “What did Kite do yest’day, when he heard the sad news?” “Lutcher told him,” said Peter. “Lutcher says he was wild. But when Jim Radabaugh saw him, he kept his head, and said it didn’t concern him. I hear he had some talk with Jack Routt; and then he posted off down to the furnace to see Chase.” “To see Chase, eh?” “What I hear.” “What about, Peter?” “I sh’d guess he wanted Chase to call Wint off. Kite don’t like a fight, you know.” Amos nodded. “V. R. Kite,” he said pleasantly, “is a lick-spittle, Peter. That’s what V. R. Kite is. I don’t like to see Chase mixing with him.” “You know,” said Peter, “Chase has changed some, since you put the laugh on him.” “Chase is all right,” said Amos surprisingly. “He’s had the foolishness knocked out of him. Peter, he’ll make a good man, before he’s done.” Peter looked at Amos sidewise and said he wouldn’t be a bit surprised. “But he makes a mistake to tie up to Kite,” said Amos. “Him and Kite had a talk with Routt, in Jack’s office, last night,” said Peter. Amos chuckled. “Pete, it beats me how you find out things.” “I don’t find ’em out,” said Peter. “People tell me.” He rummaged through the tangle at the back of his neck. “Looks like people aim to make mischief, so they tell me things to tell you that’ll start a fight, and the likes of that. That’s the way of it.” “This won’t start a fight,” said Amos. “I’m home for a rest.” Peter looked at him intently. “You backing Wint?” “No.” “What?” “Pete,” said Amos thoughtfully, “this was Wint’s idea. He figured it out, the right thing to do. He’s started it. It won’t hurt him a bit to fight it out. I’m going to stand by and yell: ‘Go it, wife; go it, b’ar.’ That’s me in this, Peter.” “What are you going to tell Kite?” “Going to tell him just that,” said Amos.