murmuring. But the warning was enforced
by a command from another voice--weak, unheroic, but familiar, "I order
this yer to stop--right yer!"

A burst of ironical laughter followed. The voice was Uncle Ben's.

"Stand back! This is no time for foolin'," said the sheriff roughly.

"He's right, Sheriff Briggs," said Stacey's voice hurriedly; "you're
acting for HIM; he's the owner of the land."

"What? That Ben Dabney?"

"Yes; he's Daubigny, who bought the title from us."

There was a momentary hush, and then a hurried murmur.

"Which means, gents," rose Uncle Ben's voice persuasively, "that this
yer young man, though fair-minded and well-intended, hez bin a leetle
too chipper and previous in orderin' out the law. This yer ain't no
law matter with ME, boys. It ain't to be settled by law-papers, nor
shot-guns and deringers. It's suthin' to be chawed over sociable-like,
between drinks. Ef any harm hez bin done, ef anythin's happened, I'm yer
to 'demnify the sheriff, and make it comf'ble all round. Yer know me,
boys. I'm talkin'. It's me--Dabney, or Daubigny, which ever way you like
it."

But in the silence that followed, the passions had not yet evidently
cooled. It was broken by the sarcastic drawl of Dick McKinstry: "If
them Harrisons don't mind heven had their medders trampled over by a few
white men, why"--

"The sheriff ez 'demnified for that," interrupted Uncle Ben hastily.

"'N ef Dick McKinstry don't mind the damage to his pants in crawlin' out
o' gunshot in the tall grass"--retorted Joe Harrison.

"I'm yer to settle that, boys," said Uncle Ben cheerfully.

"But who'll settle THIS?" clamored the voice of the older Harrison from
behind the barn where he had stumbled in crossing the fallen hay. "Yer's
Seth Davis lyin' in the hay with the top of his head busted. Who's to
pay for that?"

There was a rush to the spot, and a quick cry of reaction.

"Whose work is this?" demanded the sheriff's voice, with official
severity.

The master uttered an instinctive exclamation of defiance, and dropping
quickly to the barn floor, would the next moment have opened the door
and declared himself, but Mrs. McKinstry, after a single glance at his
determined face, suddenly threw herself before him with an imperious
gesture of silence. Then her voice rang clearly from the barn:--

"Well, if it's the hound that tried to force his way in yer, I reckon ye
kin put that down to ME!"

CHAPTER X.

It was known to In