regular hell-cat. I thought her an' my wife was bad enough 'fore the
trouble, but it's wuss now. The ol' woman has left us."

"Left you?" repeated Westerfelt. "What do you mean?"

"Why, she says she won't sleep an' eat in the same house with my wife,
beca'se she give Sally advice, an'--an' one thing or nuther. The ol'
woman has bought 'er some second-hand cookin' utensils--a oven an' a
skillet an' a cup an' a plate or two, an' has moved 'er bed an' cheer
into the Hilgard cabin down below us. She slept thar last night. It
looks powerful like she's wrong in the upper-story. At fust she was
all yells an' fury, but now she jest sulks an' hain't got one word to
say to nobody. I went down thar last night an' tried to call 'er to
the door, but she wouldn't stir a peg. As soon as she heerd me at the
fence she blowed out 'er light an' wouldn't let on no more'n ef I was a
dog a-barkin'. Now, I hold that she hain't got no call to treat me
that away. I never tuck no hand in 'er disputes with my wife, an' ef
hard things has been said about Sally, why they never come from me.
Lord, I've got plenty else to think about besides gals an' women. I
think I'm on track o' the skunk 'at stole my axe."

Westerfelt walked on. It was plain to him that none of the neighbors
knew the secret of Sally Dawson's death, but he was beginning to think
that the mother of the girl might half suspect the truth, and that she
was his enemy for life he did not doubt.




Chapter IV