g a stick into a grotesque imitation of a snake coiled. He did
not rise when the posse approached. He merely rocked back upon the rock,
embraced his knees in both of his enormous arms, and, in a word,
transformed himself into a round ball of mirth. But having hugged away
his laughter he was able to convert his joy into a vast grin. That smile
stopped the posse. When a mob starts for a scene of violence the least
exhibition of fear incenses it, but mockery is apt to pour water on its
flames of anger.

Decidedly the fury of the posse was chilled by the grin of George.
Milligan, who had lived south of the Mason-Dixon line, stepped up to
impress George properly.

"Boy," he said, frowning, "go in and tell your man that we've come for
him. Tell him to step right out here and get ready to talk. We don't
mean him no harm less'n he can't explain one or two things. Hop along!"

The "boy" did not stir. Only he shifted his eyes from face to face and
his grin broadened. Ripples of mirth waved along his chest and convulsed
his face, but still he did not laugh. "Go in and tell them things to
Donnegan," he said. "But don't ask me to wake him up. He's sleepin'
soun' an' fas'. Like a baby; mostly, he sleeps every day to get rested
up for the night. Now, can't you-all wait till Donnegan wakes up
tonight? No? Then step right in, gen'lemen; but if you-all is set on
wakin' him up now, George will jus' step over the hill, because he don't
want to be near the explosion."

At this, he allowed his mirth free rein. His laughter shook up to his
throat, to his enormous mouth; it rolled and bellowed across the
hillside; and the posse stood, each man in his place, and looked
frigidly upon one another. But having been laughed at, they felt it
necessary to go on, and do or die. So they strode across the hill and
were almost to the door when another phenomenon occurred. A girl in a
cheap calico dress of blue was seen to run out of a neighboring shack
and spring up before the door of Donnegan's hut. When she faced the
crowd it stopped again.

The soft wind was blowing the blue dress into lovely, long, curving
lines; about her throat a white collar of some sheer stuff was being
lifted into waves, or curling against her cheek; and the golden hair, in
disorder, was tousled low upon her forehead.

Whirling thus upon the crowd, she shocked them to a pause, with her
parted lips, her flare of delicate color.

"Have you come here," she cried, "for--for D