interference would never count. But things were going wrong. Arch
had had a hard time with old Jason the night before. Again he had
to go over the same weary argument that he had so often travelled
before: the mountain people could do nothing with the mineral
wealth of their hills; the coal was of no value to them where it
was; they could not dig it, they had no market for it; and they
could never get it into the markets of the outside world. It was
the boy's talk that had halted the old man, and to Arch's
amazement the colonel's sense of fairness seemed to have been
touched and his enthusiasm seemed to have waned a little. That
morning, too, Arch had heard that Shade Hawn was getting well a
little too fast, and he was on his way to see about it. Shade was
getting well fast, and with troubled eyes Arch saw him sitting up
in a chair and cleaning his Winchester.

"What's yo' hurry?"

"I ain't never agreed to no truce," said Shade truculently.

"Don't you think you might save a little time--waitin' fer Babe to
git tame? He's hidin' out. You can't find him now."

"I can look fer him."

"Shade!"--wily Arch purposely spoke loud enough for Shade's wife
to hear, and he saw her thin, worn, shrewish face turn eagerly--
"I'll give ye just fifty dollars to stay here in the house an' git
well fer two more weeks. You know why, an' you know hit's wuth it
to me. What you say?"