with them. He only held his ground for form's sake, and often his voice
was overborne by the clamors of many responsive tones, all blaring and
arguing together. Much that was said he could not hear, and refrained
from speaking when he perceived from the loud contending faces that he
was denied for the nonce a rejoinder. But ever and anon the silver
vibrations of the little linguister's voice rose into the big bass
tumult as she rehearsed what had been said for her grandfather's
benefit, and the angry rush of sound stopped with an abrupt recoil for a
moment, then surged on as before.

She looked very mild and petite among them, quite like a sedate child,
her cheeks pinker than any of the rose tints of her apparel that were
her pride, her lips red and breathlessly parted, her eyes bright and
very watchful, her golden brown hair all red gold in the flicker of the
fire. There was one wild taunting threat that she did not repeat, as if
she thought it of no consequence,--the threat of personal violence
against Ralph Emsden. They had found out his name patly enough from
their own messenger to Blue Lick Station. They would take out their
grudge against him on his hide, they averred,--if they had to go all the
way to Blue Lick to get it!

Now and again they sufficiently remembered that indeterminate quantum of
courtesy which they called their "manners" to interpolate "No offense to
_you_, sir," or "Begging the lady's pardon." Throughout she preserved a
cool, almost uncomprehending, passive manner; and it was in one of the
moments of a heady tumult of words, in which they sometimes involved
themselves beyond all interpretation or distinguishment, that she
observed with a sort of childish inconsequence that they could get Ralph
Emsden easily enough if they would go to Blue Lick Station,--he was
there now, and his arm and shoulder were so hurt that he would not be