by his father, and
stood surrounded by a porch, swept by the maple branches and littered
with saddles, saddle blankets, long rope halters, bridles, salt sacks,
heavy leather hobbles, and all the work-a-day gear of a cattle grazier.

There was a certain air of strangeness in the way we were met at
Nicholas Marsh's house. I do not mean inhospitality, rather the reverse,
with a tinge of embarrassment, as of one entertaining the awkward guest.
We were evidently expected, and a steaming supper was laid for us. Yet,
when I sat at the table and Jud with his plate by the smouldering fire,
we were not entirely easy. Marsh walked through the room, backward and
forward, with his hands behind him, and a great lock of his iron-grey
hair throwing shadows across his face. Now and then he put some query
about the grass, or my brother's injury, or the condition of the road,
and then turned about on his heel. His fine open face wore traces of
annoyance. It was plain that there had been here some business not very
pleasing to this honourable man. When I told him we had come for the
cattle, the muscles of his jaw seemed to tighten. He stopped and looked
me squarely in the face.

"Well, Quiller," he said, with what seemed to me to be unnecessary
firmness, "I shall let you have them."

I heard Jud turn sharply in his chair.

"Let me have them? Is there any trouble about it?"

The man was clearly embarrassed. He bit his lip and twisted his neck
around in his collar. "No," he said, hesitating in his speech, "there
isn't any trouble. Still a man might demand the money at the scales. He
would have a right to do that."

My pulse jumped. So this was one of their plans, those devils. And we
had never a one of us dreamed of it. If the money were demanded at the
scales it would mean delay, and delay meant that Woodford would win.

So this was Twiggs's part in the ugly work. No wonder he ran his horse.
Trust a woman for jamming through the devil's business. Nothing but the
good fibre of this honourable man had saved us. But Westfall! He was
lighter stuff. How about Westfall?

I looked up sharply into the troubled face of the honest man.

"How about the other cattle," I faltered; "shall we get them?"

"Who went for them?" he asked.

"Ump," I replied; "he left us at the crossroads."

The man took his watch out of his pocket and studied for a moment.
"Yes," he said, "you will get them."

It was put like some confident opinion based upon th