"I'm shore," he muttered, "certain shore. But there ain't nothin' to go by. Not a thing. An' yuh can't prove nothin' lyin' on yore back with a bumped ankle." Half an hour later the entrance of Kate Saltoun interrupted his gloomy reflections. "Feeling worse, Tom?" she inquired, her expression anxious. "Me? Oh, not a little bit. I feel just like a flock o' birds with yaller wings." "You needn't be snippy. I know how your ankle must pain you, but----" "It ain't the ankle, Kate. That feels fine, only I know I can't stand on it. It's what I'm thinkin' about. I was wonderin' 'bout Scotty an' all." "If I sit with you, would--would you like to talk?" said she with a hesitant smile, the slow red mounting to her cheeks. "If it wouldn't bother yuh too much." "I'll be right back." Kate took away the dishes, and Loudon, who had pulled the blankets up to his chin at her entry, snuggled deeper into the bed and wished himself elsewhere. "What else could I say?" he asked himself, dismally, "Lord A'mighty, I wish she'd keep away from me." Kate returned quickly, carried the chair to the foot of the bed, and sat down. She crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands in her lap. Silence ensued for a brief space of time. "Well," said Kate, leadingly. "I was just a-wonderin' about this hoss deal," began Loudon. "I think----" "I know what you intended saying," Kate observed, calmly. "You see in it the fine Italian hand of Blakely." "You always could talk high, wide, and handsome," said Loudon, admiringly. "How djuh guess it?" "I know Sam Blakely. That's enough. He'd hesitate at nothing, no matter how vile or wicked it might be. Oh, don't look so eager. I can't prove it. It's my instinct, that's all. I hate him--hate him--hate him!" Kate covered her face with her hands. "They'll hear yuh in the kitchen," cautioned Loudon in a whisper. Kate lowered her hands and looked at him wearily. When she spoke her voice was perfectly composed. "No, they won't. Dorothy's over at Lil's. Don't worry, though. I sha'n't lose control of myself. Something came over me then. I won't do it again." "Well, you think like I do, but I can't prove nothin', neither. Never have been able to prove nothin' against the 88. Say, does yore dad still believe like he used to about them cows?" "The Crossed----" "No, _his_ cows. Them cows that disappeared now an' then." "I believe he does. He never talks much, you know, and it's sometimes hard for me to tell what he thinks. But I don't believe he suspects the 88. He was very angry when I broke the engagement. I wouldn't give him my reason, and he stormed and stamped around, and quarrelled with me all the time. That's partly why I came up here to visit Lil Mace."