Other developments surprised Hare.  The house of this good Mormon was divided against itself.  Precedence was given to the first and elder wife—­Mother Mary; Mother Ruth’s life was not without pain.  The men were out on the ranges all day, usually two or more of them for several days at a time, and this left the women alone.  One daughter taught the school, the other daughters did all the chores about the house, from feeding the stock to chopping wood.  The work was hard, and the girls would rather have been in White Sage or Lund.  They disliked Mescal, and said things inspired by jealousy.  Snap Naab’s wife was vindictive, and called Mescal “that Indian!”

It struck him on hearing this gossip that he had missed Mescal.  What had become of her?  Curiosity prompting him, he asked little Billy about her.

“Mescal’s with the sheep,” piped Billy.

That she was a shepherdess pleased Hare, and he thought of her as free on the open range, with the wind blowing her hair.

One day when Hare felt stronger he took his walk round the farm with new zest.  Upon his return to the house he saw Snap’s cream pinto in the yard, and Dave’s mustang cropping the grass near by.  A dusty pack lay on the ground.  Hare walked down the avenue of cottonwoods and was about to turn the corner of the old forge when he stopped short.

“Now mind you, I’ll take a bead on this white-faced spy if you send him up there.”

It was Snap Naab’s voice, and his speech concluded with the click of teeth characteristic of him in anger.

“Stand there!” August Naab exclaimed in wrath.  “Listen.  You have been drinking again or you wouldn’t talk of killing a man.  I warned you.  I won’t do this thing you ask of me till I have your promise.  Why won’t you leave the bottle alone?”

“I’ll promise,” came the sullen reply.

“Very well.  Then pack and go across to Bitter Seeps.”

“That job’ll take all summer,” growled Snap.

“So much the better.  When you come home I’ll keep my promise.”

Hare moved away silently; the shock of Snap’s first words had kept him fast in his tracks long enough to hear the conversation.  Why did Snap threaten him?  Where was August Naab going to send him?  Hare had no means of coming to an understanding of either question.  He was disturbed in mind and resolved to keep out of Snap’s way.  He went to the orchard, but his stay of an hour availed nothing, for on his return, after threading the maze of cottonwoods, he came face to face with the man he wanted to avoid.

Snap Naab, at the moment of meeting, had a black bottle tipped high above his lips.

With a curse he threw the bottle at Hare, missing him narrowly.  He was drunk.  His eyes were bloodshot.

“If you tell father you saw me drinking I’ll kill you!” he hissed, and rattling his Colt in its holster, he walked away.

Hare walked back to his bed, where he lay for a long time with his whole inner being in a state of strife.  It gradually wore off as he strove for calm.  The playground was deserted; no one had seen Snap’s action, and for that he was glad.  Then his attention was diverted by a clatter of ringing hoofs on the road; a mustang and a cloud of dust were approaching.