rness and the
silliness of drink.

"YOU ain't June, air ye?" The girl never moved. As if by a preconcerted
signal three men moved toward the boy, and one of them said sternly:

"Drop that pistol. You are under arrest.' The boy glared like a wild
thing trapped, from one to another of the three--a pistol gleamed in the
hand of each--and slowly thrust his own weapon into his pocket.

"Get off that horse," added the stern voice. Just then Hale rushed
across the street and the mountain youth saw him.

"Ketch his pistol," cried June, in terror for Hale--for she knew what
was coming, and one of the men caught with both hands the wrist of
Dave's arm as it shot behind him.

"Take him to the calaboose!"

At that June opened the gate--that disgrace she could never stand--but
Hale spoke.

"I know him, boys. He doesn't mean any harm. He doesn't know the
regulations yet. Suppose we let him go home."

"All right," said Logan. "The calaboose or home. Will you go home?"

In the moment, the mountain boy had apparently forgotten his captors--he
was staring at June with wonder, amazement, incredulity struggling
through the fumes in his brain to his flushed face. She--a Tolliver--had
warned a stranger against her own blood-cousin.

"Will you go home?" repeated Logan sternly.

The boy looked around at the words, as though he were half dazed, and
his baffled face turned sick and white.

"Lemme loose!" he said sullenly. "I'll go home." And he rode silently
away, after giving Hale a vindictive look that told him plainer than
words that more was yet to come. Hale had heard June's warning cry, but
now when he looked for her she was gone. He went in to supper and sat
down at the table and still she did not come.

"She's got a surprise for you," said Mrs. Crane, smiling mysteriously.
"She's been fixing for you for an hour. My! but she's pretty in them new
clothes--why, June!"

June was coming in--she wore her homespun, her scarlet homespun and the
Psyche knot. She did not seem to have heard Mrs. Crane's note of wonder,
and she sat quietly down in her seat. Her face was pale and she did not
look at Hale. Nothing was said of Dave--in fact, June said nothing at
all, and Hale, too, vaguely understanding, kept quiet. Only when he went
out, Hale called her to the gate and put one hand on her head.

"I'm sorry, little girl."

The girl lifted her great troubled eyes to him, but no word passed her
lips, and Hale helplessly left her.

J