s what they
paid, I expect, and--"

"But we won't let them--"

"Depends on how many guns the colony's got and how much fight there's in
it. They'll try it, anyhow, unless--"

"Unless--" repeated Robbins uneasily.

"Unless they're scared off, _unless they think it's death for a man to
tackle us_."

Robbins rubbed his hands harder; he bit his lip. A little space of
silence fell between them. Off to the south, where the little town was
set like an island in the darkening prairie, the lights began to
twinkle; they were yellow and scattered. Even at that distance one
could tell that they burned few to the house.

"I kinder wish," said Robbins, "that he came from another town."

"What's the difference about the town?"

"Oh, none, I guess. But that town, it's in Iowa, and it sent the best
things we've ever had. One woman put in a lot of jams and jellies and
tea--such tea! My wife was sick then, and I didn't know but I'd lose
her. I gave her some of that tea and some jam, and she began to pick up
from that day. It was a quince jam, and made her think of home, she
said. Her father was a Connecticut man, and they had an orchard with
quince trees in it--I remember--" He did not finish the sentence, but he
sighed as he absently ran his eye over the gaps in the harness mended
with rope.

"I bet _he_ didn't have nothing to do with that box," said Orr; "most
like, the people sent us that were poor folks themselves, and had to
pinch to make up for the things they sent us. 'Tain't the rich people
are sorriest for poor folks. This young Wallace--his father's the owner
of a big paper, and rich besides, and he's got this boy in training for
editor; and when that first duck couldn't do nothing out here, the old
man said he'd buy in, and the young one thought it a mighty smart thing
to do to come over here and turn a lot of half-starved women and
children out in winter. What's _he_ care? What do any of these rich
folks care?"

"I don't think you're fair, Wesley," said Robbins. "All the rich folks
aren't mean. I know more about them than you." He spoke with a dawning
of pride in his tone, which deepened a little.

"Yes, I know you used to belong to them," said Orr, "and I guess you
were decent to the poor. But you'll admit you didn't have no notion how
it cuts to work every muscle in you and to lay awake thinking yourself
half crazy to puzzle out better ways to make money and yet to feel every
year you're a-sinking deeper in th