"Therefore I won't detain you now. I only wanted to thank you for your
gentleness last night, and to assure you that the bear-skin did not give
me my death."

She smiled and nodded her small head, and wrapped her shawl again
closely around her shoulders, and turned her eyes upon the mountains,
gestures which the now quick-minded Jeff interpreted as a gentle
dismissal, and flew to seek his aunt.

Here he grew practical. Ready money was needed; for the "Half-way House"
was such a public monument of ill-luck, that Jeff had no credit. He must
keep up the table to the level of that fortunate breakfast--to do which
he had $1.50 in the till, left by Bill, and $2.50 produced by his Aunt
Sally from her work-basket.

"Why not ask Mr. Mayfield to advance ye suthin?" said Aunt Sally.

The blood flew to Jeff's face. "Never! Don't say that again, aunty."

The tone and manner were so unlike Jeff that the old lady sat down half
frightened, and taking the corners of her apron in her hands began to
whimper.

"Thar now, aunty! I didn't mean nothin',--only if you care to have me
about the place any longer, and I reckon it's little good I am any way,"
he added, with a new-found bitterness in his tone, "ye'll not ask me to
do that."

"What's gone o' ye, Jeff?" said his aunt lugubriously; "ye ain't nat'ral