Part 9

The Stranger's voice (deprecatingly): “Well! I reckon that would be about fair. Consider the trouble” (a weak laugh here) “just now. 'Tain't every man ez hez your grip. He! he! Ef ye hadn't took me so suddent like--he! he!--well!--how about that ar whiskey?”

Jeff's voice (coolly): “I'll bring it.”

Steps, silence, coughing, spitting, and throat-clearing from the stranger.

Steps again, and the click of glass.

The Stranger's voice (submissively): “In course I must go back to the Forks and fetch up my duds. Ye know what I mean! Thar now--don't, Mr. Jeff!”

Jeff's voice (sternly): “If I find you go back on me--”

The Stranger's voice (hurriedly): “Thar's my hand on it. Ye can count on Jim Dodd.”

Steps again. Silence. A bird lights on the window ledge, and peers into the room. All is at rest.

Jeff and the deputy-sheriff walked through the bar-room and out on the porch. Miss Mayfield in an arm-chair looked up from her book.

“I've written a letter to my father that I'd like to have mailed at the Forks this afternoon,” she said, looking from Jeff to the stranger; “perhaps this gentleman will oblige me by taking it, if he's going that way.”

“I'll take it, miss,” said Jeff hurriedly.

“No,” said Miss Mayfield archly, “I've taken up too much of your time already.”

“I'm at your service, miss,” said the stranger, considerably affected by the spectacle of this pretty girl, who certainly at that moment, in her bright eyes and slightly pink cheeks, belied the suggestion of ill health.

“Thank you. Dear me!” She was rummaging in a reticule and in her pocket, etc. “Oh, Mr. Jeff!”

“Yes, miss?”

“I'm so frightened!”

“How, miss?”

“I have--yes!--I have left that letter on the stump in the woods, where I was sitting when you came. Would you--”

Jeff darted into the house, seized his hat, and stopped. He was thinking of the stranger.

“Could you be so kind?”

Jeff looked in her agitated face, cast a meaning glance at the stranger, and was off like a shot.

The fire dropped out of Miss Mayfield's eyes and cheeks. She turned toward the stranger.

“Please step this way.”

She always hated her own childish treble. But just at that moment she thought she had put force and dignity into it, and was correspondingly satisfied. The deputy sheriff was equally pleased, and came towards the upright little figure with open admiration.

“Your name is Dodd--James Dodd?”

“Yes, miss.”

“You are the deputy sheriff of the county? Don't look round--there is no one here!”

“Well, miss--if you say so--yes!”