Wash answered with a scowl; "Sammy's gettin' too dad burned good
fer me since Ollie's uncle took him in. An' now, this here old man
from nowhere has come, it's worse than ever. She'll put a rope
'round our necks th' first thing you know."

Jim's right hand slipped quietly inside his hickory shirt, where
the button was missing, as he drawled, "My girl always was too
good for some folks. And it's about time you was a findin' it out.
She can't help it. She was born that way. She's got mighty good
blood in her veins, that girl has; and I don't aim to ever let it
be mixed up with none of the low down common yeller kind."

The deliberate purpose of the speaker was too evident to be
mistaken. The other man's hand flew to his hip almost before Mr.
Lane had finished his sentence. But Wash was not quick enough.
Like a flash Jim's hand was withdrawn from inside the hickory
shirt, and the giant looked squarely into the muzzle of Jim Lane's
ever ready, murderous weapon.

In the same even voice, without the slightest allusion to the
unfinished movement of the other, Mr. Lane continued, "I done told
you before that my girl would pick her own company, and I ain't
never feared for a minute that she'd take up with such as you.
Ollie Stewart ain't so mighty much of a man, maybe, but he's
clean, he is, and the stock's pretty good. Now you can just listen
to me, or you can mosey out of that door, and the next time we
meet, we will settle it for good, without any further
arrangement."

As Sammy's father talked, the big figure of his visitor relaxed,