bad. Your
memory came back awful quick, didn't it? I thought she'd bring you to
your senses!"

CHAPTER IX

Houston pretended not to hear the remark. The woman in the buggy was
holding forth her hands to him and he assisted her to the ground.

"Well," she asked, in a sudden fawning manner, "aren't you glad to see
me, Barry? Aren't you going to kiss me?"

"Of course." He took her in his arms. "I--I was so surprised, Agnes.
I never thought of you--"

"Naturally you didn't." It was Thayer again. "That's why I sent for
her. Thought you'd get your memory back when--"

"I've had my memory for long enough--" Houston had turned upon him
coldly--"to know that from now on I'll run this place. You're through!"

"Barry!" The woman had grasped his arm. "Don't talk like that. You
don't know what you're saying!"

"Please, Agnes--"

"Let him rave, if that's the way he wants to repay faithfulness."

"Wait until I've talked to you, Barry. You haven't had time to think.
You've jumped at conclusions. Fred just thought that I could--"

"This hasn't anything to do with you, Agnes. There hasn't been
anything wrong with me. My brain's been all right; I've known every
minute what I've been doing. This man's crooked, and I know he's
crooked. I needed time, and I shammed forgetfulness. I've gotten the
information I need now--and I'm repeating that he's through! And every
one else in this camp goes with him!"

"I'm not in the habit of taking insults! I--"

Thayer moved forward belligerently, one hand reaching toward a cant
hook near by. But suddenly he ceased. Ba'tiste, quite naturally, had
strolled between them.

"M'sieu Houston have a broke' arm," had come very quietly. Thayer
grunted.

"Maybe that's the reason he thinks he can insult every one around here."

Ba'tiste looked down upon him, as a Newfoundland would look upon a
snapping terrier.

"M'sieu Houston insult nobody."

"But--"

The voice of the big man rose to a roar.

"Ba'teese say, M'sieu Houston insult nobody. Un'stan'? Ba'teese say
that! Ba'teese got no broke' arm!"

"Who is this man?" The woman had turned angrily toward Barry; "What
right has he to talk this way? The whole thing's silly, as far as I
can see, Barry. This man, whoever he is, has been stuffing you full of
stories. There--"

"This man, Agnes," and Barry Houston's voice carried a quality he never
before had used with Agnes Jierdon, "is the best friend I e