t. She reached over and plucked his
sleeve. "You can't do it, you jest can't. It would be a robbin' of
yo'se'f."

"Wall," drawled the old man, with a countryman's philosophical
resignation in the face of a difficulty that cannot be avoided, "when a
man robs hisse'f he ginerally knows about how fur the work has gone on.
I've been a lettin' putty nigh every man have what he wants an' it's
most too late to stop now. Laz, tell Kintchin to haul you over a load of
co'n an' you kin ride Old Roan home."

The borrower nodded his head, arose and started toward the door, but
halted and turned back. Starbuck inquired if there were anything else on
his mind. He scratched his head as if he would harrow up his sleeping
faculties and managed to say that he believed not.

"Laz, wush you'd try to keep my hoss away from that bluff."

"Oh, I'll take as good kere of him as if he belonged to me."

"What!--as if he belonged to you? Then I reckon I better not let you
have him. You must do better than that, Laz. An' say, don't furgit to
fetch him back."

"Oh, I never furgit nuthin'. Good-day."

Margaret hastened to the window and called after him: "Oh, Laz. We air
goin' to kill a sheep to-morrer. Tell yo' mother we'll send her over a
hindquarter."

"Yes'm," he answered, without looking back, and slouched off down the
road.

Up and down the room the old man walked, deep in thought. With his eyes
half-closed, sometimes he looked like a lion dozing in the sun. They say
that a game-cock is the bravest thing in the world. That is not true.
Nothing can be gamer than a game man. He is willing to die for a
principle. And never is he thrice armed unless his quarrel is just.

Laz came back to the window and spoke and the old man started and looked
toward him. "Jasper, I have hearn that Lije Peters is about to be
app'inted deputy marshal."

"Yes, Laz, that's the news a stirrin'."

Behind the lout's countenance a light was gradually turned up. "We all
knows whut that means, Jasper, an' ef you need me, all you've got to do
is to git out on the hill-top an' holler. Layin' in bed one night, an' I
hearn a feller holler. I went to him. They had him tied across a log an'
his shirt was off. I asked the cap'n of the gang whut it meant, an' he
'lowed that the feller had been in the habit o' whippin' his wife, an'
then I 'lows, I does--'Old chap, I reckon you'll hatter swallow yo'
salts. Good night.' An' I hearn him a swollerin' 'em. But if I hear you