“That’s nothing,” remarked another.  “Some of us have been broke since we came here; you get used to it.  There’ll be other folks in a tight place if the rain doesn’t come; but it won’t make much difference to you, Wilkinson.  I guess the storekeepers have you fixed now.”

Wilkinson frowned.  He knew the remark was prompted by malice because he had won the money his companion had lost.  The fellow, however, had not exaggerated.  His creditors had recently stopped supplies and made demands with which he was unable to comply, and since they were obviously consulting each other, it looked as if he would be sold up and forced to leave the neighborhood.  Somebody had put them on his track and he suspected Mrs. Charnock.  He meant to punish her if he could.

“I’ve certainly got to sell off a bunch of young horses sooner than I meant; I expect you’ve seen the notices,” he said, and added with a sneer:  “They’d have made a much better price if I could have kept them until the spring, and now’s your chance if you have any dollars to invest.  It’s a sure snap for anybody who’ll help me hold them over.”

One of the men laughed ironically and another asked:  “Why don’t you try Charnock?  He used to be a partner of yours, and he’s more money than the rest of us.”

Wilkinson saw his opportunity.  His companions were loafing gossips, and those who were married would tell their wives.  In a very short time the rumor he meant to start would travel about the neighborhood, and there was enough truth in it to make it dangerous and hard to deny.

“Charnock’s deadbeat.  He’s as poor as you.”

“His wife has plenty dollars, anyhow.”

“That’s so, but she’s not going to give him any more,” Wilkinson rejoined.  “He married Sadie for her money, and now he hasn’t sense enough to stick to her.”

It was obvious that he had secured the others’ attention, for they waited eagerly, with their eyes fixed on him.  The room was quiet, but a rig came up the street and the rattle of wheels and harness drowned the sound of steps outside.  Nobody noticed that the door, which was not quite shut, opened wider.

“What do you mean by that?” one asked.

“Bob’s running after Mrs. Festing.  Old sweetheart of his in England, though he turned her down to marry Sadie.  Now she’s got hold of him again—­tired of Festing or has a pick on Mrs. Charnock, perhaps.  Anyhow, Bob’s round the Festing place all the time, and I don’t know that I blame him much.  Mrs. Festing’s a looker and Sadie’s a difficult woman to live with.”

“But what has Festing got to say?”

Wilkinson laughed.  “Festing’s a bit of a sucker and doesn’t know.  He’s scared about the big crop he has sown and thinks of nothing but the weather and his farm, while Bob goes over when he’s off at work.  But I guess there’s trouble coming soon.”

“It’s coming now,” said somebody, and Wilkinson’s jaw fell slack, and he sat with his mouth open as Festing strode into the room.