The man was staring out down at the village with gloomy eyes.
She read into his expression a great dread of this officer's coming to
Rocky Springs. She knew she was witnessing the outward signs of a
guilty conscience. Suddenly she made up her mind.

"What--ever is to be done?" she cried, half eagerly, half fearfully.
"Say, I just can't bear to think of it. All these men, men we've
known, men we've got accustomed to, even--men we like, to be herded to
the penitentiary. It's awful. There's some I shouldn't be sorry to see
put away. They're scallywags, anyway. They aren't clean, and they chew
tobacco, and--and curse like railroaders. But they aren't all
like--that--are they, Kate?" She paused. Then, in a desperate appeal,
"Kate, I'd fire your two boys, Nick and Pete. They're mixed up in
whisky-running, I know. When Stanley Fyles gets around they'll be
corralled, sure, and I'd hate him to think we employed such men. Don't
you think that, Charlie?" she demanded, turning sharply and looking
into the man's serious face.

Then, quite suddenly, she changed her tone and relapsed into her less
responsible manner, and laughed as though something humorous had
presented itself to her cheerful fancy.

"Guess I'd have to laugh seeing those two boys doing the chores around
a penitentiary for--five years. They'd be cleaner then. Guess they get
bathed once a week. Then the funny striped clothes they wear. Can't
you see Nick, with his long black hair all cut short, and his vulture
neck sticking out of the top end of his clothes, like--like a thread
of sewing cotton in a darning needle? Wouldn't he look queer? And the
work, too! Say, it would just break his heart. My, but they get most
killed by the warders. And then for drink. Five years without tasting
a drop of liquor. No--they'd go mad. Anybody would. And all for the
sake of making a few odd dollars against the law. I wouldn't do it. I
wouldn't do it, not if I'd got to starve--else."

The man made no answer. His eyes remained upon the village below, and
their expression had become lost to the anxious Helen. She was talking
at him. But she was thinking not of him so much as her sister. She
knew how much it would mean to Kate if Charlie Bryant were brought
into direct conflict with the police. So she was offering her warning.

Kate turned to her quietly. She ignored the reference to her hired
men. She knew at whom her sister's remarks were directed. She shook
her head.

"Why worry