Barker saw a chance. “Persuade her to come along,” said he to McLean. “Minutes are counting now.” “Oh, I'll come,” she said, with a laugh, overhearing him, and holding still to Lin. The rest of the old friends nudged each other. “Back seats for us,” they said. “But we've had our turn in front ones.” Then, thinking they would be useful in encouraging her to walk, they clustered again, rendering Barker and McLean once more well-nigh helpless. Clumsily the escort made its slow way across the quadrangle, cautioning itself about stones and holes. Thus, presently, she was brought into the room. The escort set her down, crowding the little place as thick as it would hold; the rest gathered thick at the door, and all of them had no thought of departing. The notion to stay was plain on their faces. Barker surveyed them. “Give the doctor a show now, boys,” said he. “You've done it all so far. Don't crowd my elbows. I'll want you,” he whispered to McLean. At the argument of fair-play, obedience swept over them like a veering of wind. “Don't crowd his elbows,” they began to say at once, and told each other to come away. “We'll sure give the Doc room. You don't want to be shovin' your auger in, Chalkeye. You want to get yourself pretty near absent.” The room thinned of them forthwith. “Fix her up good, Doc,” they said, over their shoulders. They shuffled across the threshold and porch with roundabout schemes to tread quietly. When one or other stumbled on the steps and fell, he was jerked to his feet. “You want to tame yourself,” was the word. Then, suddenly, Chalkeye and Toothpick Kid came precipitately back. “Her cash,” they said. And leaving the notes and coins, they hastened to catch their comrades on the way back to the dance. “I want you,” repeated Barker to McLean. “Him!” cried Mrs. Lusk, flashing alert again. “Jessamine wants him about now, I guess. Don't keep him from his girl!” And she laughed her hard, rich laugh, looking from one to the other. “Not the two of yus can't save me,” she stated, defiantly. But even in these last words a sort of thickness sounded. “Walk her up and down,” said Barker. “Keep her moving. I'll look what I can find. Keep her moving brisk.” At once he was out of the door; and before his running steps had died away, the fiddle had taken up its tune across the quadrangle. “'Buffalo Girls!'” exclaimed the woman. “Old times! Old times!” “Come,” said McLean. “Walk.” And he took her. Her head was full of the music. Forgetting all but that, she went with him easily, and the two made their first turns around the room. Whenever he brought her near the entrance, she leaned away from him toward the open door, where the old fiddle tune was coming in from the dark. But presently she noticed that she was being led, and her face turned sullen. “Walk,” said McLean. “Do you think so?” said she, laughing. But she found that she must go with him. Thus they took a few more turns.