The girl shivered.  “And then the mines?” she asked, changing her tactics.

“Ah, yes.  The mines!  But leave that to Lord Nick.  He’ll handle it well enough!”

So Jack Landis strode up the hill first and foremost of the six stalwart men who wished to correct the stranger’s apparent misunderstandings of the status of The Corner.  They were each armed to the teeth and each provided with enough bullets to disturb a small city.  All this in honor of Donnegan.

They found the shack wrapped in the warm, mellow light of the late afternoon; and on a flat-topped rock outside it big George sat whittling a stick into a grotesque imitation of a snake coiled.  He did not rise when the posse approached.  He merely rocked back upon the rock, embraced his knees in both of his enormous arms, and, in a word, transformed himself into a round ball of mirth.  But having hugged away his laughter he was able to convert his joy into a vast grin.  That smile stopped the posse.  When a mob starts for a scene of violence the least exhibition of fear incenses it, but mockery is apt to pour water on its flames of anger.

Decidedly the fury of the posse was chilled by the grin of George.  Milligan, who had lived south of the Mason-Dixon line, stepped up to impress George properly.

“Boy,” he said, frowning, “go in and tell your man that we’ve come for him.  Tell him to step right out here and get ready to talk.  We don’t mean him no harm less’n he can’t explain one or two things.  Hop along!”

The “boy” did not stir.  Only he shifted his eyes from face to face and his grin broadened.  Ripples of mirth waved along his chest and convulsed his face, but still he did not laugh.  “Go in and tell them things to Donnegan,” he said.  “But don’t ask me to wake him up.  He’s sleepin’ soun’ an’ fas’.  Like a baby; mostly, he sleeps every day to get rested up for the night.  Now, can’t you-all wait till Donnegan wakes up tonight?  No?  Then step right in, gen’lemen; but if you-all is set on wakin’ him up now, George will jus’ step over the hill, because he don’t want to be near the explosion.”

At this, he allowed his mirth free rein.  His laughter shook up to his throat, to his enormous mouth; it rolled and bellowed across the hillside; and the posse stood, each man in his place, and looked frigidly upon one another.  But having been laughed at, they felt it necessary to go on, and do or die.  So they strode across the hill and were almost to the door when another phenomenon occurred.  A girl in a cheap calico dress of blue was seen to run out of a neighboring shack and spring up before the door of Donnegan’s hut.  When she faced the crowd it stopped again.

The soft wind was blowing the blue dress into lovely, long, curving lines; about her throat a white collar of some sheer stuff was being lifted into waves, or curling against her cheek; and the golden hair, in disorder, was tousled low upon her forehead.