"Do you really, in your heart, believe that Harry would--knowingly--be
guilty of anything mean?" Her eyes plainly told the answer she wanted to
hear.

Rowdy looked into them, hesitated, and clung tenaciously to his
convictions. "Yes, I do; and I know Harry pretty well, Jessie." His face
showed how much he hated to say it.

"I'm afraid you are very prejudiced," she sighed. "But go on; tell me just
what you have against Harry. I'm sure it can all be explained away, only I
must hear what it is."

Rowdy regarded her, puzzled. How he was to comply he did not know. It would
be simply brutal to tell her. He would feel like a hangman. And she believed
so in Harry, she wouldn't listen; even if she did, he thought bitterly, she
would hate him for destroying her faith. A woman's justice--ah, me!

"Don't you see you're putting me in a mighty hard position, girlie?" he
protested. "You're a heap better off not to know. He's your brother. I wish
you'd take my word that I'll drop the whole thing right where it is. Harry's
had all the best of it, so far; let it stand that way."

Her eyes met his coldly. "Are you afraid to let me judge between you? What
did he do? Daren't you tell?"

Rowdy's lids drooped ominously. "If you call that a dare," he said grimly,
"I'll tell you, fast enough. I was a friend to him when he needed one mighty
bad. I helped him when he was dead broke and out uh work. I kept him going
all winter--and to show his gratitude, he gave me the doublecross, in more