s team in front of the bar, and she
saw him taking his morning drink at the counter and heard Buck
Hillhouse giving him an exaggerated report of the visit of the
Whitecaps. The eastern sky was yellowing, and a peak of the tallest
mountain cut a brown gash in the coming sunlight. At the fence in
front of Bufford Webb's cottage a cow stood lowing for admittance, and
a milking-pail hung on the gate.

As Harriet passed, Mrs. Webb came out with a bucket of "slop" for the
pig in a pen near the fence. She rested it on the top rail to speak to
Harriet, but the hungry animal made such a noise that she hastened
first to empty the vessel into the trough.

"Good-morning," she said, going quickly to the gate and wiping her
hands on her apron; "did you-uns heer the racket last night?"

"Yes," answered Harriet.

"I didn't sleep a wink. We could see 'em frum the kitchen winder.
It's a outrage, but I'm glad they did no rail harm."

The girl passed on. She found Washburn in front of the stable oiling a
buggy. He had placed a notched plank under an axle and was rapidly
twirling a wheel.

"Where is Mr. Westerfelt?" she asked.

He raised his eyes to the window in the attic. "Up thar lyin' down.
He's not in bed. He jest threw hisself down without undressing."

"Is he asleep?"

"I don't know, Miss Harriet, but I think not."

"Did they hurt him last night, Mr. Washburn?"

"Why, no, Miss Harriet, not a single bit."

She caught her breath in relief. "I thought maybe they had, and that
he was not going to acknowledge it. Are--are you sure?"

"As sure as I could be of anything, Miss Harriet; I believe he is a
truthful man, an' he told me they didn't lay the weight of a finger on
'im. You kin go up an' ax 'im. He ain't asleep; he looked too worried
to sleep when he got back. He walked the floor the balance o' the
night. Seems to me he's been through with enough to lay out six common
men."

Harriet did not answer. She turned into the office and went up the
stairs to Westerfelt's room. Round her was a dark, partially floored
space containing hay, fodder, boxes of shelled corn, piles of corn in
the husk, and bales of cotton-seed meal. She rapped on the
door-facing, and, as she received no response, she called out:

"Mr. Westerfelt, come out a minute."

She heard him rise from his bed, and in a moment he stood in the
doorway.

"Oh, it's you!" he cried, in a glad voice. "I was afraid you were not
well. I--"

"