It occurred to the journalist that Mr. Heckshill had the reputation,
in his earlier career, of "taking" such things as unoccupied lands
and timber "as he found them," without much reference to their actual
owners. Apparently he was acting upon the same principle now, as he
reached for the demijohn of whiskey with the ingenuous pleasantry, "Did
somebody say whiskey, or did I dream it?"

But this did not satisfy Frenshaw. "I suppose," he said, ignoring
Heckshill's diplomatic philosophy, "that you may have been the victim
of some misunderstanding or some unfortunate coincidence. Perhaps the
company may have confounded you with your neighbors, who are believed
to be friendly to the gang; or you may have made some injudicious
acquaintances. Perhaps"--

He was stopped by a suppressed but not unmusical giggle, which appeared
to come from the woman in the corner who had not yet spoken, and whose
face and figure in the shadow he had previously overlooked. But he could
now see that her outline was slim and graceful, and the contour of her
head charming,--facts that had evidently not escaped the observation of
the expressman and Mr. Heckshill, and that might have accounted for
the cautious reticence of the one and the comfortable moralizing of the
other.

The old woman cast an uneasy glance on the fair giggler, but replied to
Frenshaw:

"That's it! 'injerdishus acquaintances!' But just because we might
happen to have friends, or even be sorter related to folks in another
line o' business that ain't none o' ours, the kempany hain't no call to
persecute US for it! S'pose we do happen to know some one like"--