"If you ever DARE to speak to him--about me, you'll never see me again."

Jim was perplexed.

"I mean it, Jim. I've made my choice, and I've come back to you. If you
ever try to fix up things between him and me, I'll run away--really and
truly away--and you'll never, never get me back."

He shuffled awkwardly to her side and reached apologetically for
the little, clenched fist. He held it in his big, rough hand, toying
nervously with the tiny fingers.

"I wouldn't do nothin' that you wasn't a-wantin', Poll. I was just a
tryin' to help yer, only I--I never seem to know how."

She turned to him with tear-dimmed eyes, and rested her hands on his
great, broad shoulders, and he saw the place where he dwelt in her
heart.

Chapter XIV

THE "Leap of Death" implements were being carried from the ring, and Jim
turned away to superintend their loading.

Performers again rushed by each other on their way to and from the main
tent.

Polly stood in the centre of the lot, frowning and anxious. The mere
mention of the pastor's name had made it seem impossible for her to ride
to-night. For hours she had been whipping herself up to the point of
doing it, and now her courage failed her. She followed Barker as he came
from the ring.

"Mr. Barker, please!"

He turned upon her sharply.

"Well, what is it NOW?"

"I want to ask you to let me off again to-night." She spoke in a short,
jerky, desperate way.

"What?" he shrieked. "Not go into the ring, with all them people inside
what's paid their money a-cause they knowed yer?"

"That's it," she cried. "I can't! I can't!"

"YER gettin' too tony!" Barker sneered. "That's the trouble with you.
You ain't been good for nothin' since you was at that parson's house.
Yer didn't stay there, and yer no use here. First thing yer know yer'll
be out all 'round."

"Out?"

"Sure. Yer don't think I'm goin' ter head my bill with a 'dead one,' do
you?"

"I am not a 'dead one,'" she answered, excitedly. "I'm the best rider
you've had since mother died. You've said so yourself."

"That was afore yer got in with them church cranks. You talk about yer
mother! Why, she'd be ashamed ter own yer."

"She wouldn't," cried Polly. Her eyes were flashing, her face was
scarlet. The pride of hundreds of years of ancestry was quivering with
indignation. "I can ride as well as I EVER could, and I'll do it, too.
I'll do it to-morrow."

"To-morrow?" echoed Barker. "What do you mean by that?"