yellow face. He was tall, lean, hard,
powerfully built. He eyed the strangers with affected languor, and then,
when they had gone by, broke into sudden, loud laughter.

"That was Bob Skillett, the worst of the lot," said the judge. "Harkless
sent his son and one brother to prison, and it nearly broke his heart
that he couldn't swear to Bob."

When they were beyond the village and in the open road again. Miss
Sherwood took a deep breath. "I think I breathe more freely," she said.
"That was a hideous laugh he sent after us. I had heard of places
like this before--and I don't think I care to see many of them. As I
understand it, Six-Cross-Roads is entirely vicious, isn't it; and bears
the same relation to the country that the slums do to a city?'"

"That's about it. They make their own whiskey. I presume; and they have
their own fights amongst themselves, but they settle 'em themselves,
too, and keep their own counsel and hush it up. Lige Willetts, Minnie's
friend--I guess she's told you about Lige?--well, Lige Willetts will go
anywhere when he's following a covey, though mostly the boys leave this
part of the country alone when they're hunting; but Lige got into
a thicket back of the forge one morning, and he came on a crowd of
buzzards quarrelling over a heap on the ground, and he got out in a
hurry. He said he was sure it was a dog; but he ran almost all the way
to Plattville."

"Father!" exclaimed his daughter, leaning from the back seat. "Don't
tell such stories to Helen; she'll think we're horrible, and you'll
frighten her, too."

"Well, it isn't exactly a lady's story," said the judge. He glanced at
his guest's face and chuckled. "I guess we won't frighten her much," he
went on. "Young lady, I don't believe you'd be afraid of many things,
would you? You don't look like it. Besides, the Cross-Roads isn't
Plattville, and the White-Caps have been too scared to do anything much,
except try to get even with the 'Herald,' for the last two years; ever
since it went for them. They're laying for Harkless partly for revenge
and partly because they daren't do anything until he's out of the way."

The girl gave a low cry with a sharp intake of breath. "Ah! One grows
tired of this everlasting American patience! Why don't the Plattville
people do something before they----"

"It's just as I say," Briscoe answered; "our folks are sort of used to
them. I expect we do about all we can; the boys look after him nights,
and the