He filled his lungs again and shoved both feet closer to the oven door.

"But that fire feels real nice," he finished; "real nice and comfortin', somehow. And maybe I could stop just a minute." The old hungry light of curiosity was kindling again, brighter than ever before, in the beady little eyes. "As you was remarkin', back a stretch, you'd been a-waitin' for me to come along. Was they--was they something you wanted to see me about?"

CHAPTER X

The perplexed frown still furrowed Young Denny's forehead. He felt that the fire had wrought a most remarkably swift cure of all that he had feared, but the anxiety faded from his eyes. White head perked forward, balanced a little on one side, birdlike, Old Jerry was waiting for him to pick up the thread which had been broken so long.

And now it was the big-shouldered boy who faltered in his words, uncertain just how to begin.

"I--I don't know just how to ask you," he started heavily. "I'm--I am going away. I'm figuring on being gone quite a while, I think. First, just after I had decided to go, some time last night, I made up my mind to ask you to take care of the stock till I came back. I thought maybe it wouldn't be too hard for you--with you coming by at night, anyhow. There's just the one cow and the team, and the hens to feed.

And then I--I got to thinkin' that maybe, too, you'd be able to do something else for me, if I sort of explained how things were.

There--there wasn't anyone else I could think of who'd be likely to want to do me a favor."

He paused and licked his lips. And Old Jerry, too, furtively touched his with the tip of his tongue. He was waiting breathlessly, but he managed to nod his head a little, encouragingly, as he leaned closer.

"And that was what I was really waiting for," the slow voice went on ponderously. "I saw this morning--anybody could have seen--what the Judge meant them all to believe along the street when we drove through. Somehow things have changed in the last twelve hours. I sort of look at some things differently than I did, and so it was funny, just funny to watch him, and I'm not so blind that I don't know what his story will be tonight down at the Tavern. Not that I care what they say, either. But there is some one who couldn't help believin'

it--couldn't believe anything else--after what happened last night."

He stopped, groping for words to finish. "And so I--I waited for you to come," he went on lamely. "I took you outside and showed you how it really happened, so that--so that you could tell _her_--the truth."

He nodded over his shoulder--nodded once out across the valley in the direction of John Anderson's small drab cottage huddled in the shadow under the hill. And now, once he had fairly begun, all the diffidence, all the self-consciousness went from his voice. It was only big and low and ponderous, as always, as he went back and told the old man, who sat drinking it in, every detail of that night before, when he had stooped and risen and sent the stone jug crashing through the window--when he had turned, with blood dripping from his chin, to find Dryad Anderson there in the doorway, eyes wide with horror and loathing. Not until he had reached that point did Old Jerry move or hint at an interruption.

"But why in time didn't you tell her yourself?" he asked then. "Why didn't you explain that old Tom hit you a clip out there in the dark?"

Young Denny's face burned.

"I--I tried to," he explained simply. "I--I started toward her, meaning to explain, but I tripped, there on the threshold, and went down on my knees. I must have been a little sick--a little giddy. And when I got up again she--she was gone."

Old Jerry nodded his head judicially. He sucked in his lips from sheer delight in the thrill of it all, and nodded his head in profound solemnity.

"Jest like a woman--jest like a woman, a-condemnin' of a man without a bit of mercy! Jest like 'em! I ain't never been enticed yet into givin' up my freedom; but many's the time I've said--says I----"

The boy's set face checked him; made him remember. This was no mimic thing. It was real; too real to need play-acting. And with that thought came recollection. All in a flash it dawned on him that this was no man-created situation; it must have something greater than that behind it.

That morning had seen his pa.s.sing from the circle to which he had belonged as long as the circle had existed. All through that dreary day he had known that he could never go back to it. Just why he could not say, but he felt that that decision was irrevocable. And for that whole day he had been alone--more utterly, absolutely alone than he had ever been in his whole life--yet here was a place awaiting him, needing him. For some reason it was not quite so hard to look straight back into the eyes of that soul which he had discovered that day; it wasn't so hard, even though he knew it now for the pitiful old fraud it really was.

His thin, leathery face was working spasmodically. And it was alight--aglow with a light that came entirely from within.

"Could you maybe explain," he quavered hungrily; "could you kinda tell me--just why it is--you're a-askin' me? It--it ain't jest because you hev to, entirely; now, is it? It ain't because there ain't nothin'

else left you to do?"

Denny Bolton sensed immediately more than half of what was behind the question. He shook his head.

"No," he answered steadily. "No, because I'm going to try to tell her again, myself, tonight. It's only partly because maybe I--I won't be able to see her before I go--and part because she--she'd believe you, somehow, I think, when she wouldn't believe any of the rest."

The white-haired old man sighed. His stiffened body slackened as he shifted his feet against the stove.

"Why--why, I kinda hoped it was something like that," he murmured; and he was talking more to himself than to Denny. "I kinda hoped it was--but I never had no reason to believe it."

His voice lifted until it was its shriller, more natural falsetto.

"I wouldn't 'a' believed myself today, at twelve o'clock noon," he stated flatly. "No, sir-e-e! After takin' stock of myself, as you might say, the way I done this morning, I wouldn't 'a' believed myself on oath!"

His feet dropped noisily to the floor, and he sat bolt upright again.

"But she's a-goin' to believe me! G.o.dfrey, yes, she'll believe me when I git through tellin' her!"

His pale eyes clung to the boy's face, tinged with astonishment before so much vehemence.

"And ain't it kinda struck you--ain't it sorta come to you that she wa'n't quite fair, either, any more than the rest of us, a-thinkin'--a-thinkin' what she did, without any real proof?"

Young Denny did not have time to reply.

"No, I reckon it ain't," Old Jerry rushed on. "And I don't know's I've got much right criticizing either. Not very much! I've been a tidy hand at jedgin' other folks' matters until jest lately. Some way I ain't quite so handy at it as I was. And I kinda expect she's goin' to be sorry she even thought it, soon enough, without my tryin' to make her any more so. She's goin' to be mighty uncomfortable sorry, if she's anything like me!"

He rose and shuffled across to the door, and stopped there. Denny could not understand the new thrill there was in his cracked voice, nor the light in those pale eyes. But he knew that the old man before him had been making something close akin to an eleventh-hour confession; making it out of a profound thankfulness for the opportunity. With the same gesture with which he bade the old man wait, his big hand went inside his shirt, and came out again. And he reached out and pressed something into Old Jerry's knotty fingers.

"I--I was sure you'd do it," he told him. "I knew you would. And I want you to take this, too, and keep it. I don't want to go away like this, but I have to. If I didn't start right now I--I might not go at all. I hate to leave her alone--in this town. That's half of what the Judge let me have today on this place. It's not much, but it's something if she should need anything while I'm gone. I thought you might--see that she was all right--till I got back?"

The servant of the "Gov'mint" stood and stared down at the limp little roll of bills in his hand; he stared until something caught in his throat and made him gulp again noisily. But his face was shamelessly defiant of the mist that smarted under his eyelids when he looked up again.

"Take care of her?" he whispered. "Me take care of her for you?

Why--why, G.o.dfrey--why, man----"

He dashed one hand across his eyes.

"I'm a old gossipy fool," he exclaimed. "Nothin' but a old gossipy fool; but I reckon you don't hev to _count_ them bills over before you leave 'em with me. Not unless you want to. I've been just an ordinary, common waggle-tongue. That's what I really come for in such a hurry tonight, once I'd thought of it. Jest to see if I couldn't nose around into business that wa'n't no concern of mine. But I'm gittin' over that--I'm gittin' over that fast! Learning a little dignity of bearin', too, as you might say. And I don't deny I ain't a little curious yet--more'n a little curious. But I want to tell you this: There's some folks that lies mostly for profit, and some that lies largely for their own amus.e.m.e.nt, and they both do jest about as much damage in the long run, and I ain't no better, jest because I never made nothin' outen mine. But if you could kinda drop me a line, maybe once in a while, and tell me how you're gittin' on, I'd be mighty glad to hear. An' it wouldn't do no harm, either." He nodded his head, in turn, in the direction of the drab cottage across the valley.

"Because--because she's goin' to be waitin' to hear--she's goin' to be sorry, and kinda wonderin'. I know--well, jest because I know!"

Still he lingered, with his fingers on the door catch. He shoved out his free hand.

"I--I suppose we'd ought to shake hands, hedn't we," he faltered; "bein' as it's kinda considered the reg'lar and customary thing to do on such occasions?"

Denny was smiling as his hand closed over those clawlike fingers; he was smiling in a way that Old Jerry had never seen before. Because the noise in his throat was growing alarmingly louder every moment, the latter went on talking almost wildly, to cover that weakness which he could not control.

"I hope you git on," he said. "And I reckon you will. It's funny--it's more'n that--and I don't know where I got the idea. But it's kinda come to me, somehow, that maybe it was that account in the paper--that story of Jeddy Conway--that's set you to leavin'. It ain't none of my business, and I ain't askin' no questions, but I do want to say that there never was a time when you couldn't lick the everlastin' tar outen him. And you've growed some since then. Jest a trifle--jest a trifle!"

The boy's smile widened and widened. Then he laughed aloud softly and nodded his head.

"I'll send you the papers," he promised. "I'll send you all of them."

Old Jerry stood with his outstretched hand poised in midair while he realized that his chance shot had gone home. And suddenly, unaccountably, he began to chuckle; he began to cackle noisily.

"I might 'a' knowed it," he whispered. "I ought to hev knowed it all along. Now, you don't hev to worry--they ain't one mite of a thing I ain't a-goin' to see to while you're away. You don't want nothin' on your mind, because you're goin' to hev a considerable somethin' on your hands. And I got to git along now. G.o.dfrey, but it's late for me to be up here, ain't it? I got to hustle, if I ever did; and there ain't too much time to spare. For tonight--tonight, before I git through, I aim to put a spoke in the Jedge's wheel, down to the Tavern, that'll make him think the axles of that yello'-wheeled gig of his'n needs greasin'. Jest a trifle--jest a trifle!"

He opened the door and slammed it shut behind him even before the boy could reply. Still smiling whimsically, Young Denny stood and listened to the grating of the wheels as the buggy was turned about outside--heard the old rig groan once, and then complain shrilly as it started on its way. But no one witnessed Old Jerry's wild descent to the village that night; no one knew the mad speed he made, save the old mare between the shafts; and she was kept too busy with the lash that whistled over her fat flanks to have given the matter any consistent thought.