that you've been botherin' her, I'll attend to your case. D'ye
get that?"

Long glowered and remained silent.

"D'ye get that?" Billy repeated, more imperatively.

A growl of assent came from the blacksmith

"All right, then. See you remember it. An' now get outa the way
or I'll walk over you."

Long slunk back, muttering inarticulate threats, and Saxon moved
on as in a dream. Charley Long had taken water. He had been
afraid of this smooth-skinned, blue-eyed boy. She was quit of
him--something no other man had dared attempt for her. And Billy
had liked her better than Lily Sanderson.

Twice Saxon tried to tell Billy the details of her acquaintance
with Long, but each time was put off.

"I don't care a rap about it," Billy said the second time.
"You're here, ain't you?"

But she insisted, and when, worked up and angry by the recital,
she had finished, he patted her hand soothingly.

"It's all right, Saxon," he said. "He's just a big stiff. I took
his measure as soon as I looked at him. He won't bother you
again. I know his kind. He's a dog. Roughhouse? He couldn't