at once, "ther's suthin' doin' thick 'tween
Jake an' blind hulks. Savee? I heerd Jake an' Miss Dianny gassin' at
the barn one day. She wus ther' gittin' her bit of a shoe fixed by
Jacob--him allus fixin' her shoes for her when they needs it--an' Jake
come along and made her go right in an' look at the new driver he wus
breakin' fer her. Guess they didn't see me, I wus up in the loft
puttin' hay down. When they come in I wus standin' takin' a chaw, an'
Jake's voice hit me squar' in the lug, an' I didn't try not to hear
what he said. An' I soon felt good that I'd held still. Sez he, 'You
best come out wi' me an' learn to drive her. She's dead easy.' An'
Miss Dianny sez, sez she, 'I'll drive her when she's thoroughly
broken!' An' he sez, 'You mean you ain't goin' out wi' me?' An' she
answers short-like, 'No.' Then sez he, mighty riled, 'You shan't go
out with that mare by yourself to meet no Treslers,' sez he. 'I'll
promise you that. See? Your father's on to your racket, I've seen to
that. He knows you an' him's bin sparkin', an' he's real mad. That's
by the way,' he sez. 'What I want to tell you's this. You're goin' to
marry me, sure. See? An' your father's goin' to make you.' An' Miss
Dianny jest laffed right out at him. But her laff wa'n't easy. An' sez
she, wi' mock 'nuff to make a man feel as mean as rank sow-belly,
'Father will never let me marry, and you know it.' An' Jake stands
quiet a minnit. Then I guess his voice jest rasped right up to me
through that hay-hole. 'I'm goin' to make him,' sez he, vicious-like.
'A tidy ranch, this, eh? Wal, I tell you his money an' his stock an'
his land won't help him a cent's worth ef he don't give you to me. I
ken make him lick my boots if I so choose. See?' Ther' wa'n't another
word spoke. An' I heerd 'em move clear. Then I dropped, an' pushin' my
head down through the hay-hole, I see that Jake's goin' out by
hisself. Miss Dianny had gone out clear ahead, an' wus talkin' to
Jacob."

"What do you think it means?" asked Tresler, quietly.

And in a moment the other shot off into one of his volcanic surprises.

"I ain't calc'latin' the'r meanin'. Say, Tresler." The man paused, and
his great rolling eyes glanced furtively from right to left. Then he
came close up and spoke in a harsh whisper. "It's got to be. He ain't
fit to live. This is wot I wus thinkin'. I'll git right up to his
shack, an' I'll call him every son-of-a---- I ken think of. See? He'll
git riled, an'--wal, I owe