explain. It was my mad, unreasoning love that--"

But, with an exclamation of sheer disgust, she put her fingers to her
ears and sped rapidly down the walk. He stood still, watching her until
she entered the cabin door and closed it behind her. Then he completed
the broken sentence, but not in the voice of humility nor with the words
that he had intended to utter.

CHAPTER XI.

Shay, coming up the walk, distinctly heard what he said.

"What's the matter, Bill?" he inquired, pausing. "Did she throw the
hooks into you?"

Landover glared at him balefully. "You go to hell, damn you," he
snarled, and walked away.

"Soapy" rubbed his chin dubiously as he watched the retreating figure.
Pursing his thin lips, he turned his attention to an unoffending stump
six or eight feet away and scowled at it vindictively. He was turning
something over in his mind, and he was manifestly in a state of
indecision. Ruminating, he spoke aloud, perhaps for the benefit of a
Portuguese farm-hand who happened to be approaching from the opposite
direction, but who still had some rods to cover before he was within
hearing distance.

"Gee, he's getting to be as decent and democratic as any of us. Shows
what association will do for a man. Two months ago he would have been
too high and mighty to tell me to go to hell. If he keeps on at this
rate, he'll be worth payin' attention to in a couple of months more.
Won't he, Bill?" This to the farmhand, who obligingly halted.

Mr. Shay made constant and impartial use of the name Bill. Except in a
very few instances, he applied it to all males over the age of two,
and he did it so genially that resentment was rare. Americans, Britons,
Irishmen, Portuguese, Spaniards, Indians, Swedes,--all races, in fact,
except the Hebrew,--came under the sweeping appellation. His Hebrew
acquaintances were addressed by the name of Ike.

It so happened that this particular "Bill" was lamentably slow in
picking up the English language. It was even said that he prided himself
on being halfwitted. However, being an exceedingly dull creature, he was
quite naturally a polite one. He was a good listener. You could speak
English to him by the hour and never be annoyed by verbal interruptions.
At regular intervals he would insert a shrug of the shoulders, or nod
his head, or lift an eye-brow, or spread out his hands, or purse his
lips,--and he never smiled unless you did.

Perceiving that some sort of an answer w