Larrabee's face was at once softened and troubled. "Burn his shanty every time he gits it started," quoth Espey. And he that would work ill to one man would work ill to another: witness his own plight. His conscience began to stir. If, he thought, the whiskey tax were not in itself so tyrannical, so impracticable and obnoxious a thing, he might have admitted for the nonce that moonshining was in itself wrong. Kenniston's eyes were studying his unconscious countenance. "Well," he said suddenly, "since it's nothing about my affairs, what can I do for you? Won't you have a chair?" Larrabee shook his head silently. He stood for a few moments undecided. It might seem that his enthusiasm, so ruthlessly dragged down to earth, might hardly make shift to rise again; but it was strong of wing, as behooves that ethereal essence, and in his ignorant assumptions he thought that he had seen a sign in the heavens, a sign for him. The fervor of all that he had half doubting believed, and half believing doubted, fired his pulses once more. He cared naught for Espey and his troublous usurpations, the officer of the law, the moonshiner and his deadly feud, the incendiary, the necessity of heed to his words. He cared for naught under the moon. Once more his face had that illumined, exalted expression. As he leaned suddenly forward, with a keen anxiety, and said, "Air ye 'quainted with the stars by name, bein' a book-l'arned man?" Kenniston had a swift doubt of his sanity. "Yes," he replied. And after a pause he asked the counter-question, "Are you interested in the stars?" But Larrabee, still under the influence of the strong excitement that possessed him, did not answer directly. "I kin read, but I hain't got but one book. The teacher what l'arned me ter read 'lowed ez the stars air named; they air numbered in a book. Hev ye l'arned sech?" "Oh yes; I have studied astronomy," replied Kenniston capably. "I know their names." "I know _them_; I dunno thar names," said Larrabee, making a definite distinction. "That's the reason I kem ter you-uns, hearin' ez ye air a book-l'arned man." He turned his head and looked out into the night as he stood on the threshold. The mists had gone their ways. The clouds were far in the west. Above all, the clear, sombre field of the sky was thickly bespangled with stars, chill, keenly glittering, for below the night was very dark. "Thar's a new one," he declared excitedly, "a new one never viewed afore! I seen it kindle up a matter of three week ago, three week an' better, an' it's thar now!" Kenniston sat in silent amazement, looking steadily at him. "Kem out!" Larrabee insisted, in tones strangely urgent. "Kem out an' see!"