hat I hired out for a little spell ago. I couldn't
think of nare' a better way o' gettin' at the damned--"

Gordon interrupted bruskly. "Cut out the curses and tell me what you owe
Vint Farley. If your debt is bigger than mine, you shall have the first
chance."

The gas-flash came again. There was black wrath in the man's eyes.

"You can tote it up for yourself, Tom-Jeff Gordon. Late yeste'day
evening when me and Nan Bryerson drove to town for your Uncle Silas to
marry us, she told me what I'd been mistrustin' for a month back--that
Vint Farley was the daddy o' her chillern. He's done might' nigh
ever'thing short o' killin' her to make her swear 'em on to you; and I
allowed I'd jest put off goin' back West till I'd fixed his lyin' face
so 'at no yuther woman'd ever look at it."

Gordon staggered and leaned against the fence palings, the red rage of
murder boiling in his veins. Here, at last, was the key to all the
mysteries; the source of all the cruel gossip; the foundation of the
wall of separation that had been built up between his love and Ardea.
When he could trust himself to speak he asked a question.

"Who knows this, besides yourself?"

"Your Uncle Silas, for one: he allowed he wouldn't marry us less'n she
told him. I might' nigh b'lieve he had his suspicions, too. He let on
like it was Farley that told him on you, years ago, when you was a boy."

"He did? Then Farley was one of the three men who saw us up yonder at
the barrel-spring?"

"Yes; and I was another one of 'em. I was right hot at you that mornin';
I shore was."

"Well, who else knows about it?"

"Brother Bill Layne, and Aunt M'randy, and Japhe Pettigrass. They-all
went in town to stan' up with me and Nan."

Then Tom remembered the figure coming swiftly across the lawns and the
call of the voice he loved. Had Japheth told her, and was she hastening
to make such reparation as she could? No matter, it was too late now.
The fierce hatred of the wounded savage was astir in his heart and it
would not be denied or silenced.

"Give me that gun, and you shall have your first chance," he conceded.
"I make but one condition: if you kill him, I'll kill you."

Kincaid laughed and gave up his weapon.

"I was only allowin' to sp'ile his face some, and a rock'll do for that.
You can have what's left o' him atter I get thoo--and it'll be enough to
kill, I reckon."

At the moment of weapon-passing there came sounds audible above the sob
and sigh of t