’er some’n somebody’s has said about somebody else, an’ she gits ’er cheer.  So I try to keep a stock o’ things on hand.  Clem Dill’s afeerd o’ Mis’ Dawson now.  I was in the store one day about a week ago, an’ she come in to swap a pair o’ wool socks she had knit fer coffee, an’ Clem ’lowed, jest to pass the time, while he wus at the scales, he’d ax ’er what ailed her an’ Lizzie, anyway.  But I reckon Clem has quit axin’ fool questions, fer she turned on ’im like a tiger-cat.  Sez she: 

“‘Liz Lithicum dared to say my child made a fool o’ herse’f about John Westerfelt.  That’s exactly what Liz an’ other folks sez about yore wife.  I don’t see what right you have to ax me sech a question.’  Well, sir, Clem was so much set back ‘at he couldn’t hardly speak, an’ he spilled a scoop o’ coffee on the counter ’fore he could get it into the old woman’s poke.  After she had gone out, laughin’ in her sneakin’ way, Clem come back whar I wus at by the stove an’ set down an’ spit about two dozen times.  Arter ’while he axed me ef I’d ever heerd the talk about his wife, an’ I eased him all I could, but, lawsy me, you ort ter see ‘im hop up an’ bow an’ scrape when old Sue comes in the store now.  Clem ain’t a jealous man—­I reckon he’s been married too long for that.  In my courtin’ days I used to be jealous actually of Clariss’s own daddy, but now I make a habit o’ invitin’ the preacher to our house every third Sunday so I kin git a decent meal an’ set an’ smoke in the kitchen.  John, you don’t seem to be any nigher marryin’ now than you wus awhile back.”

Westerfelt smiled, but made no reply.

“Well, you’d better keep on a-thinkin’ it over,” counselled Slogan, as he took the saddle and blanket from his horse and examined a rubbed spot on the animal’s back; “thar’s a heap more fun marryin’ in a body’s mind than before a preacher; the law don’t allow a feller but one sort of a wife, but a single man kin live alone, an’ fancy he’s got any kind he wants, an’ then she won’t be eternally a-yellin’ to ’im to fetch in fire-wood.  A young feller kin make a woman a sight more perfect than the Creator ever did, an’ He’s had a sight o’ practice.  I reckon the Lord made ’em like they are to keep men humble and contrite an’ to show up to advantage His best work on t’other shore.  But so long, John, I must be goin’.”

Chapter XI

It was a dark night two weeks later.  Westerfelt, quite recovered from his illness, was returning from a long ride through the mountains, where he had been in search of a horse that had strayed from the stable.

The road along the mountain-side was narrow and difficult to follow.  At times he was obliged to ascend places so steep that he had to hold to the mane of his horse to keep from falling off.

At the foot of a mountain about two miles from Cartwright, he heard voices ahead of him.  He stopped, peered through the foliage, and, a few paces farther on, saw a wagon containing a couple of barrels.  Near it stood two men in slouched hats and jeans clothing.