I asked.

With a foul paroxysm of oaths and obscenity he threw the pistol aside,
and crossing the room caught up the broken broomstick which served in
lieu of a poker. I had never before been beaten. It was not pleasant,
quite aside from the physical pain. And as to that phase of it, one who
has not been bludgeoned with bracelets on his wrists may underestimate
the actual bodily torture of the experience. At all events, I must
confess that even now I sometimes awake from a nightmare in which I am
being thrashed with a broomstick. I tried resistance, but one of them
dragged at my chain while the other belabored me, until in a few moments
I sank down in the wormwood bitterness of humiliation and defeat and was
half-dragged, half-kicked up the stairs, and thrown into my room, where
they gagged me against the possibility of outcry, and tied me so that I
could not move from my mattress or kick upon the floor. Dawson himself
remained with me. They had none too much time. Within a few minutes I
heard the long-drawn halloo of persons without. The voices were friendly
and the response from Bud was equally cordial. The all-pervading
hypocrisy of these mountain hatreds lay over and whitewashed the
attitudes of both parties. As they came they shouted their request for
permission to enter, and the man inside responded with assurances of
welcome. Those who were arriving were coming as spies. Those inside were
bent on deceit.

We heard them calling, still from afar, that they wanted a drink of
liquor, and we heard Bud shout back that his jug was at their command.

Then feet tramped about the lower floor. Curt Dawson stood back in the
shadow of the eaves while this interview lasted with his weapon drawn,
and never once until the visitors rode away from the house did his eyes
leave the door at the head of the stairs.

When Bud came up after they had gone he was a little pale under the
reaction and the strain of anxiety showed in his eyes.

"My God!" he exclaimed. "I 'lowed them fellers never was ergoin' ter
leave hyar."

"What did you tell 'em?" demanded Dawson curtly.

"I told 'em I'd had a little business round hyar--let 'em think it was
somethin' ter do with er still, an' said I'd jest spent the night hyar
ruther then hoof hit back home."

Dawson jerked his head toward the stairway. "Did they say anythin' 'bout
comin' up here?"

"No. They kinder eyed them steps, but they didn't say nothin'."

For a moment Garvin's chief