buffaloed at the very
thought of her, so he just hung around and slept late so that he might
dream about her and feel like he was her equal or that she loved back
at him. You know! The other fellow came from a neighboring town, and he
wasn't the same kind, for he'd knocked around more, and was a better
liar, but he wasn't right. No, sir! He was sure a wrong guy, as it came
out, but he was handsomer and younger, and the very purity and
innocence of the girl drew him, I reckon, being a change from what he
had ever mixed up with."

"W'y don' dis good man tak' a shot at him?" asked Poleon, hotly.

"First, he didn't realize what was going on, being too tied up with
dreaming, I reckon; and, second, neither man didn't know the other by
sight, living as they did in different parts; third, he was an ordinary
sort of fellow, and hadn't ever had any trouble, man to man, at that
time. Anyhow, the girl up and took the bad one."

"Wat does de good man do, eh?"

"Well, he was all tore up about it, but he went away like a sick quail
hides out."

"Dat's too bad."

"He heard about them now and then, and what he heard tore him up worse
than the other had, for the girl's husband couldn't wear the harness
long, and, having taken away what good there was in her, he made up in
deviltry for the time he had lost. She stood it pretty well, and never
whimpered, even when her eyes were open and she saw what a
prize-package she had drawn. The fact that she was game enough to stand
for him and yet keep herself clean without complaint made the man
worse. He tried to break her spirit in a thousand ways, tried to make
her the same as he was, tried to make her a bad woman, like the others
he had known. It appeared like the one pleasure he got was to torture
her."

"W'y don' she quit 'im?" said Doret. "Dat ain' wrong for quit a man
lak' him."

"She couldn't quit on account of the kid. They had a youngster. Then,
too, she had ideas of her own; so she stood it for three years, living
worse than a dog, till she saw it wasn't any use--till she saw that he
would make a bad woman of her as sure as he would make one of the
kid--till he got rough--"

"No! No! You don' mean dat? No man don' hurt no woman," interjected
Doret.

"By God! That's just what I mean," the trader answered, while his face
had grown so gray as to match his brows. "He beat her."

Poleon broke into French words that accorded well with the trader's
harsh voice.

"The woman s