FLOYD sat on the bench for more than an hour after she had left him. His thoughts were of himself. He smoked two cigars moodily. The whole day was retracing its active steps before his eyes, from the moment he opened his ledger to do his morning's work till now that his naked soul stood shivering in the darkness before him. His thoughts bounded from one incident in his life to another, each leap ending in a shudder of discontent. Cynthia's dignified restraint, and the memory of her helpless, spasmodic leanings both to and from him, at once weighted him down and thrilled him. Yes, his almost uncontrollable passion was his chief fault. Would he ever be able to subdue it and reach his ideal of manhood? Throwing his cigar away, he rose to leave. His watch told him it was eleven.

He did not go towards the house and out at the gate, but took a nearer way through the orchard, reaching the rail-fence a hundred yards below Porter's house. He had just climbed over and was detaching himself from the detaining clutch of numerous blackberry briers, when he saw a head and pair of shoulders rise from a near-by fence-corner.

It was Pole Baker who advanced to him in astonishment.

“By gum!” Pole ejaculated. “I come as nigh as pease lettin' a pistol-shot fly at you. I was passin' an' heard some'n' in the orchard an' 'lowed it mought be somebody try in' to rob Porter's sweet-potato bed, an', by the holy Moses, it was you!”

“Yes, it was me, Pole.”

The farmer's slow glance left Floyd's face and swept critically along the fence to the white-posted gate in the distance.

“Huh!” he said, and was silent, his eyes roving on to the orchard, where his glance hovered in troubled perplexity.

“Yes, I went to see Miss Cynthia,” Floyd explained, after a pause.

“Huh, you say you did! Well, I didn't see no light in the parlor when I passed jest now'. I was particular to look, fer I've been everywhar to find you, an' Porter's was the last place. By gum! I didn't think a chap that had been kick'n' the clods o' the grave off'n 'im all day fer a woman scrape 'ud run straight to another gal before he knowed whether his hide was liable to remain solid or not.”

“I wanted to see Miss Cynthia,” Floyd said, “to ask her to go to bush-arbor meeting with me Sunday, and I didn't intend to let my affair with Jeff Wade interfere with it.”

“Huh, that was it! an' that's why you are a-comin' out o' Nathan Porter's orchard at eleven o'clock at night, is it?”

Floyd gazed at his rough friend for an instant, just a touch of irritability in his manner as he made answer:

“Miss Cynthia and I were sitting in the grape arbor, behind the house. She only stayed a minute or two. I sat there a long time after she went in. I was smoking and was beastly tired.”

“I see, I see!” Pole was slightly mollified, but was still to be heard from.

“Now, let me tell you some'n', Nelson,” he pursued. “Thar hain't no flower that ever bloomed an' throwed out sweet smells that's as nice an' purty as a pure young gal that's got good, honorable parents, an' the reputation of a creature like that is more valuable in my sight than all the gold an' diamonds on earth.”

“You certainly are right about that,” Floyd agreed, coldly, for he was secretly resenting Pole's implied warning.

“Well, then,” Baker said, even more sternly, “don't you climb out'n Nathan Porter's orchard at this time o' night ag'in, when thar's a gate with a latch an' hinges to it right before yore eyes. What ef you'd 'a' been seed by some tattlin' busybody? You hain't got no more right to run the risk—the bare risk, I say—o' castin' a stain on that little gal's name than I have to set fire to yore store an' burn it to the ground. The shack could be built up ag'in, but that fair name 'ud never be the same ag'in.”

“You are thoroughly right, Pole,” Floyd said, regretfully. “I can see it now. But I'm rather sorry to see you throw it at a feller quite so hard.”

“I reckon I'm sorter upset,” the farmer said, half apologetically, as they walked on. “I reckon it was my talk with Jeff Wade about his sister that got me started. That's mighty nigh broke him all to pieces, Nelson.”

“So you met Wade!” Floyd said, quickly. “I thought perhaps you stopped him.”

“You thought I did? What made you think I did?”

“Why, when I'd waited till about one o'clock,” Floyd replied, “I started out to Wade's, and—”

“You say you started out thar?”

“Yes, I knew he meant business, and I wanted it settled, one way or the other, so that I could go back to work, or—”

“Or turn yore toes to the sky, you fool!”

“I started to say,” Floyd went on, “that I knew something had interfered with his coming, and—”

“He'd 'a' shot seventeen holes in you or 'a' put seventeen balls in one!” Pole cried, in high disgust. “I finally fixed him all right, but he wasn't in no frame o' mind to have you come to his house an' rub it in on 'im. However, you hain't told me what made you think I stopped 'im.”

“Why,” said Floyd, “just as I was starting away from the spring, Mel Jones came running down the hill. He'd been hiding behind a big rock up there to see the affair, and was awfully disappointed. He begged me to wait a little longer, and said he was sure Jeff would come on. Then he told me he saw you in the road near Wade's house, and I understood the whole thing. I guess I owe my life to you, Pole. It isn't worth much, but I'm glad to have it, and I'd rather owe you for it than any one I know. What did you say to Wade?”

“Oh, I told 'im all I knowed about that little frisky piece, and opened his eyes generally. It's all off, Nelson. He'll let you alone in the future. He's badly broke up, but it's mostly over findin' out what the gal was.”

They had reached the point where their ways separated, when they heard several pistol-shots on the mountain road not far away, and prolonged shouting.

“White Caps,” said Pole, succinctly. “They're out on another rampage. Old Mrs. Snodgrass, by some hook or crook, generally gits on to the'r plans an' comes over an' reports it to Sally. They are on the'r way now to whip Sandy McHugh. They've got reliable proof that he stole Widow Henry's pigs, an' they are goin' to make 'im a proposition. They are a-goin' to give 'im his choice betwixt a sound whippin' an' reportin' the matter to the grand jury. They want him to take the lickin' so he kin stay on an' work fer his wife and childem. I reckon that's what he'll decide to do. Sandy ain't in no shape to go to the penitentiary.”

“I guess he deserves punishment of some sort,” said Floyd, abstractedly, “though it's a pity to have our society regulated by a band of mountain outlaws.”

“They certainly set matters straight over at Darley,” Pole said. “They broke up them nigger dives, an' made it safe fer white women to go to prayer-meetin' at night. Say, Nelson, I'm sorter sorry I spoke so hard back thar about that little gal's reputation, but the very thought o' the slightest harm ever comin' to her runs me wild. I never have spoke to you about it, but I tuck a deliberate oath once to protect 'er with my life, ef necessary. You see, she's been more than a friend to me. Last winter, while I was off on one o' my benders, little Billy got sick. He had the croup an' come as nigh as pease dyin'; he could hardly breathe. It was a awful night, rainin', snowin', sleetin', an' blowin'. Sally left him long enough to run over to Porter's to beg somebody to run fer Dr. Stone, an' Cynthia come to the door an' promised it ud be done. She tried to git old Nathan up an' dressed, but he was so slow about it—grumblin' all the time about women bein' scared at nothin'—that Cynthia plunged out in the storm an' went them two miles herself, an' fetched the doctor jest in the nick o' time. Then she stayed thar the rest o' that night in 'er wet clothes, doin' ever'thing she could to help, holdin' Billy in her arms, an' rockin' 'im back an' forth, while I was—by God, Nelson Floyd, I was lyin' under the table in Asque's bar so drunk I didn't know my hat from a hole in the ground. An' when I heard all about it afterwards, I tuck my oath. I was in the stable feedin' my hoss; he heard all I said, Nelson, an' I'll be demed ef I don't believe he understood it. I'm here to say that ef anybody don't believe I'll put a ball in the man that dares to say one word agin that little angel, all he's got to do is to try it! This is a hell of a community fer idle talk, anyway, as you know from yore own experience, an' ef any of it ever touches that gal's fair name I'll kill tatlers as fast as they open the'r dirty mouths.”

“That's the way to look at it, Pole,” Nelson Floyd said, as he turned to go; “but you'll never have anything to fear in that direction. Good-night.”

“Good-night, Nelson. I'll see you in the mornin'. I ought to 'a' been in bed two hours ago.”

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