over to him.

"Yes," said Tenney. The lividness of anger tautened his face. "You see
me off to my work. You knew you'd find her here."

"Yes," said Raven. "I knew I should find her. I had to see her alone,
because I wanted to ask her to leave you, go away from here, and be
safe."

Tenney stared at him. The brusque fact was too much for him. Why should
Raven have told it?

"You are known," Raven continued steadily, "to abuse your wife."

Tenney's lips again curled back.

"I ain't laid a finger on her," he snarled. "Anybody but a liar 'd tell
you so."

"She has told me so," continued Raven. "I came to warn her I should
complain of you and have you bound over to keep the peace. She said if I
did that she would refuse to testify against you. She said she would
rather"--here a slight bitterness came into his voice and, for an
instant, he had a foolish satisfaction in reminding Tira of her
unfriendliness in blocking him--"she would rather have me considered out
of my mind than let you get your just deserts."

"Ah!" snarled Tenney. "I wa'n't born yesterday."

This interchange had had on Tira all the effect Raven could have wished.
She started forward a step, with a murmured sound. But Tenney was
unmoved.

"Now you know," said Raven, "you're not going to tell me I'm a liar. I
draw the line at that. You'll have to drop your axe--that's a cowardly
streak in you, Tenney, a mighty mean streak, that axe business--and I'll
give you your punishment without waiting for judge or jury."

Tenney looked down at the axe frowningly, and the hand holding it sank
to his side.

"Besides saying she wouldn't testify against you," Raven continued, "she
refused to leave you. She is a foolish woman, but she's like most of
them. They hang on to the beast that abuses 'em, God knows why. But the
rest of us won't let you off so easy. Don't think it, for a minute. The
next time she's seen wandering round the woods with her baby and you
after her, yelling like a catamount, you're going to be hauled up and,
even if she won't testify, there's enough against you to make it go hard
with you."

Tenney ceased staring at the axe and looked up at Raven. Was it hatred
in the eyes? The gleam in them flickered, in a curious way, cross
currents of strange light. He tried to speak, gulped, and moistened his
dry lips. Then he managed it:

"What business is it o' yourn?"

"It's every man's business," said Raven. "When you began running over
the woo