shed by conscience than Parker Lowe. "The
hell!" he ejaculated under his breath. Then he sat still a moment, and
drew a map of his claim, and the adjoining subdivision, on the ground
between his feet. The affectionate way in which the Starkweather ranch
line joined his own seemed suggestive.

"It 'pears to me," he broke out judicially, "that ye could argue this
thing out better 'n ye do. Now, if I was in your place, 'pears to me I'd
look at it this a-way. There's a heap o' churches in Ameriky, an', if I
remember right, they mostly use wine for communion. I hain't purtook for
some time myself, but I guess I've got it right. Now all the wine that
could be made out o' them grapes o' yourn wouldn't s'ply half the
churches in this country, not to mention Europe an' Asie, an' Afriky;
an' as long as that's the case, I don't see as you're called on to
_know_ that your wine's used fer anything but religious purposes. Of
course you can conjure up all sorts o' turrible things about gettin'
drunk an' cavin' round, but that's what I call lettin' yer 'magination
run away with ye."

"Your 'magination don't have to run a great ways to see men gettin'
drunk," said Eben, with some relaxation of voice and manner. The absence
of conviction which Parker's logic displayed seemed a relief to him. His
fanaticism was personal, not polemical.

"What'd ye raise back in Ioway?" asked Parker, with seeming irrelevance.

"Corn."

"How'd ye reconcile that?"

"I didn't reconcile it; I couldn't. I sold out, an' come away."

Parker trimmed a ragged piece of leather from the sole of his boot, and
whistled softly.

"Well, I try not to be an extremist," he said, with moderation. "That
Barden's the brazenest liar on this coast. He'd ought to be kicked by a
mule. I'd like to see Idy tackle 'im."

This suggestive combination of Barden's deserts with his daughter's
energy seemed to give Eben no offense.

"Idy's so mad with him she gets excited," he said mildly. "I can't make
'er see it's all fer the best. Sence I've found out about the vines,
I've been glad I bought 'em."

Parker stopped his amateur cobbling, and looked up.

"Ye don't mean it!" he said, with rising curiosity.

"Yes; I'm glad o' the chance to get red o' them. It's worth the money."

He turned to pick up another twisted root, displaying the patches on his
knees, and the hollowness of his sunken chest.

"The hell!" commented Parker, softly to himself, with a long, indrawn
whistl