z low-down, ez underhanded, ez sneakin'
ez that yer compromise? Wot ef I say that ef that's the kind o' hogwash
that law and snivelization offers me for peace and quietness, I'll take
the fightin', and the law-breakin', and the sheriff, and all h-ll for
his posse instead? Wot ef I say that?"

"It will only be my duty to repeat it," said Stacey, with an affected
carelessness which, however, did not conceal his surprise and his
discomfiture. "It's no affair of mine."

"Unless," said Cressy, assuming her old position against the lintel of
the door, and smoothing the worn bear-skin that served as a mat with
the toe of her slipper, "unless you've mixed it up with your other
arbitration, you know."

"Wot other arbitration?" asked McKinstry suddenly, with murky eyes.

Stacey cast a rapid, half indignant glance at the young girl, who
received it with her hands tucked behind her back, her lovely head bent
submissively forward, and a prolonged little laugh.

"Oh nothing, Paw," she said, "only a little private foolishness betwixt
me and the gentleman. You'd admire to hear him talk, Paw--about other
things than business. He's just that chipper and gay."

Nevertheless, as with a muttered "Good-morning" the young fellow turned
away, she quietly brushed past her father, and followed him--with her
hands still penitently behind her, and the rosy palms turned upward--as
far as the gate. Her single long Marguerite braid of hair trailing down
her back nearly to the hem of her skirt, appeared to accent her demure
reserve. At the gate she shaded her eyes with her hand, and glanced
upward.

"It don't seem to be a good day for arbitrating. A trifle early in the
season, ain't it?"

"Good-morning, Miss McKinstry."

She held out her hand. He took it with an affected ease but cautiously,
as if it had been the velvet paw of a young panther who had scratched
him. After all, what was she but the cub of the untamed beast,
McKinstry? He was well out of it! He was not revengeful--but business
was business, and he had given them the first chance.

As his figure disappeared behind the buckeyes of the lane, Cressy cast a
glance at the declining sun. She re-entered the house, and went directly
to her room. As she passed the window, she could see her father already
remounted galloping towards the tules, as if in search of that riparian
"kam" his late interview had disturbed. A few straggling bits of color
in the sloping meadows were the children