o
slip into his room and see if he has one there, and if he has, I'll
hook it. I have also hatched out a plan to get the women folks away.
I've got my mother, and of course she knows nothing about the affair,
to send a message by me asking them to come over to our house. If I
can get the old man to go, too, so much the better. But he don't care
to go out much at night, and I reckon my only course will be to get
him drunk."

"Say," said Bob, "you 'lowed your man wa'n't easy to skeer, and if
that's the case, what's the use of takin' him a mile or two to the
woods? Men that don't skeer don't holler. Why not put it to him right
then and there, out in the yard, over a barrel?"

Before Sawyer could reply, the philosophic mind of Steve saw the
practical sense of his brother's suggestion. "I reckon he's got the
right idee, Mr. Sawyer. He's done so much of this sort of work lately
that now it comes to him somewhat in the natur' of a trade. You can
tell him a good deal about mules that I reckon he don't know, but he
knows the fine p'ints in men like a hungry feller knows the fine
p'ints of a fried chicken. Better let him have his way."

"I am more than willing," said Sawyer. "The sooner it's over with the
better it will suit me. It's results I'm after. There's a rain-water
barrel at the corner of the house," he went on, reflectively. "We can
pour the water out and roll the barrel around where we'll have plenty
of room. Do you think he'll be willing to go away, Bob?"

Bob stood leaning back, with his elbows on the vise bench. "Well," he
drawled, "an examination of the books of my firm will show that none
ain't never failed yet. I have know'd them to argy and object, but
I'll jest tell you that a hickory sprout laid on right, can soon make
a man lose sight of the p'int in his own discussion. Why, when we get
through with a man, and tell him what we want him to do, he thanks us,
as if we had given him the opportunity of his life."

"All right," Sawyer laughed, getting up. "Be there on time is all I
ask."

CHAPTER XIX.

A RESTLESS NIGHT.

The air was damp. At evening a heavy mist came with the soft June
wind, and the night was dark. McElwin had gone over to the town after
supper, something he rarely did alone, having the rich man's dread of
a dark street; but he soon returned and paced nervously up and down
the room. And more than once he muttered, shaking his head: "I can't
help it; I tried to prevent it, but coul