et of her skirt and was drawing out the bills.
"Here's the money, Mr. Welborne."

A snort that could have been heard to the front door issued from
Welborne's fluttering nostrils. He pushed the money from him, writhed
and tottered, and as he glared furiously at Henley he screamed:

"It's a trick put up between you. I see it, but I won't be buncoed in no
such way. Do you hear me?--no such way!"

He was turning off when Henley, now a different man, stepped before him.
"You are going to act fair for once, you old thief," he said, a gray
look of determination about his mouth and in his fixed eyes. "You've
been swindling this orphan girl all these years, and you are going to
abide by your own signed contract. You are going to do it, or, by all
that's holy, I'll head a gang of mountain-men that will drag you out of
your bed and lay a hundred lashes on your bare back."

"I'll see you in hell first!" Welborne shrieked, and, darting past
Henley, he hurried from the store as fast as his tottering gait would
take him.

"We lost, after all!" Dixie cried, and, sinking back in her chair, the
money clutched in her hand, she burst into tears.

"Not yet, not _plumb_ yet, little girl!" Henley was unconscious of the
vast tenderness of his tone. "Don't cry; be the brave little trick
you've always been."

"I'm not thinking of myself, really I'm not," she sobbed. "But my mother
and aunt have heard about it, and they are awfully upset. They love the
place, and the thought of leaving and being destitute is running them
crazy."

"Look here. Let me have the money," Henley said, his eyes flashing
dangerously. "You go home and be easy. Leave him to me. He sha'n't rob
you like that; I'll drag his bones from his dirty hide and rattle 'em
through the streets before I'll let 'im. This is a Christian community,
and God rules."

"You mustn't bother any more," Dixie said, and as she put the money into
his hands she clung to them tenderly and appealingly. "Blood has been
spilt over matters like this, Alfred, and the whole thing ain't worth
it. His nephew--I intended to warn you before--Hank Bradley is your
enemy, and now Welborne is, and between them"--she broke off with a
convulsive sob, but still clung pleadingly to his hands.

"I don't care if his whole layout is up in arms agin me; he sha'n't rob
you. You are the sweetest, dearest, most suffering little girl the sun
ever shone on, and I'll fight for you as long as there is a speck of
life