ge, and their garridge faced onto the
boathouse, which was lower down. The only way anybody could get on our
dock from their place was to get in a boat and come round from the lake.
Then it would of been easy.

I said I heard Bonnie Bell's voice. She was talking; who she was talking
to, I didn't know.

"It's all wrong!" says she. "You are presuming too much. Of course I
pulled you out of the lake--I would anybody; but your employers are not
friends of ours. Even if they were you've no right in the world to speak
to me."

Then I heard another voice. I knew it was Jimmie, their hired man. He
spoke out and I heard him plain.

"I know I haven't," says he, "none in the world; but I've got to."

"You must not!" says she. "Go away!"

"I'll not," says he. "I can't help it! I tell you I can't help it."

Me being foreman, I reached around now to get hold of a brick or
something. I couldn't help hearing what they said.

He'd been ordered off; yet here he was talking to Bonnie!

XV

THE COMMANDMENT THAT WAS BROKE

I stood close up to the boathouse door and was going to step out, but
what the hired man was saying to Bonnie Bell was so nervy I had to stop.
Besides, I wanted to hear what she'd say to show him his place.

"From the first minute I saw you," says he, "I couldn't help it. I swore
then I'd meet you some day, and sometime----"

"Is this the way?" I heard her say, low.

"It's the only way I have," says he. "If there was a better, don't you
think I'd take it? But what chance did I have? I had to make some way; I
wouldn't of been any sort of man if I hadn't."

She must just of stood looking at him. I couldn't see.

"I had to find some way to tell you," says he. "What part have I had in
this foolish squabble? Was that my fault? I'm only a servant now; but
give me a chance to break out of that. Why, when I was out West----"

"Were you out West?" says she, sudden.

"Yes; in the Yellow Bull Valley, among the cowmen--among the real
people. You came from that valley yourself."

"Yes, we did," says she; "and we'd far better of stayed there."

"You couldn't of stayed there," says he. "And besides, if you'd stayed
there I'd never of met you, or you me."

"Indeed! Was that all my fortune--to meet the servant of my father's
enemy?"

"It's all of mine! I'm not your enemy. But suppose now I went to your
father and told him--what would he do?"

"He'd maybe kill you," says Bonnie Bell simply; "or else Cur