“Maybe we had better quit argifyin’, and hear them new tunes Goliath and me brought over,” said David, sagaciously changing the subject. And immediately thereafter Old Harmless was mollified, and sat with open mouth, distorted fingers combing his long, white beard, and one hand cupped behind his ear as if intent upon assisting that very acute organ, attuned to great silences and tiny sounds, to drink in all the magic that issued through a huge tin horn. No further reference was made to their discussion until just before the partners departed when the old man said, as if ashamed of his vehemence, “Davy, you did git me riled up a while ago, and--and--I’m right sorry I talked so hot. It ain’t befittin’ a man of my years ter git his mad up that a way, and if I said anything ter hurt your feelin’s, son, I takes it that you understand that I’m an awful quick-tempered man.” And all the way over the trail David chuckled as if greatly amused over what to him had been nothing more than a joke. “You shouldn’t have argued with that old cuss that way,” Goliath rumbled, as if sensing his partner’s thoughts. “He believes the Lord’s his partner, and he don’t like to have nobody thrownin’ stones at Him.” And David’s face softened and his eyes became thoughtful and he said in a highly hushed voice, “Goliath, I reckon you’re right. And--I ain’t so damn certain but what the Lord is a partner to a man like old Uncle Bill, after all. I’d orter be ashamed, and--I am!” The spring season came as usual, with nature’s immutability. The snows wilted and sogged, and gave way to gurgling rivulets that trickled in innumerable hidden channels, until moist bare spots broke black and open, as if fighting to find the sun. The trees began to throw out shoots of green and migratory birds returned after their winter’s absence. The partners found the trail more difficult to Harmon’s cabin, and less idle time upon their hands. Their attention was returned to Old Harmless in a peculiar way. It was when the county sheriff rode into their clearing one afternoon, dismounted, and called them from the pay dump on which they stood. “Great Scott, Jim, what’s up? What brings you here?” David said, shaking his hand. The sheriff grinned, as if amused, shook hands with Goliath, and said, “That old patriarch over the ridge--old Harmon. He’s--he’s gone loco. Got anything to eat? I’m hungry as a wolf. Haven’t had a mouthful since five o’clock this morning. If you can spare me a snack, I’ll tell you all about it, while I’m sponging off of you two fellers.” It was while David cooked the bacon and Goliath mixed flapjacks that he explained.