Jeff strode on heavily and deposited the bag at the door. “We've all got to bunk in one room for to-night,” Amanda told him, as she untied the bag and began to take out the parcels. “There is no way fixed to keep the cow an' calf apart, an' she's got to graze or we can't have milk in the mornin', so I shut the calf up in the other room. It won't do no harm; it's clean and as gentle as a pet dog.” “That's no way to do!” Jeff loweringly protested. “A thing like that would make us the laughin'-stock of the whole county. Besides, do you know that--” He seemed to hesitate, and then, as if he was thinking of something too unpleasant for discussion, he turned abruptly away. The two women saw him walk out to the well in the yard and stand still, his gaze on the village lights in the distance. “What do you reckon is the matter with 'im?” Addie inquired, listlessly. “Go to higher powers 'an me if you want to know,” Amanda retorted, as she proceeded to prepare supper. “Something shore has rubbed 'im the wrong way. He was out o' sorts when he left us, an' he's ready to kill somebody now.” A few minutes later supper was on the table and Jeff was summoned. He entered the dimly lighted room, dropped his hat on a bed, and sat down at one end of the table. He was hungry, as the others well knew, and yet he ate with less apparent relish than usual. Amanda kept up an incessant flow of half-philosophical chatter with more or less comforting intent, but no part of it evoked comment from the head of the family. Supper over, Jeff rose, reached for his hat, and was stalking out with bowed head at the low doorway, when Amanda suddenly uttered a little scream of astonishment. “What's that in your--ain't that a pistol in your hip-pocket, Jeff Warren?” she demanded, while her weaker sister stared in slow, childlike wonder. Impulsively and somewhat guiltily Warren slapped his hand on his bulging pocket and turned, blinking doggedly at the questioner. “That's what it is!” he answered. His tone was sullen and defiant. “Whar did you get it?” Amanda was now on her feet, leaning toward him in the meager light. “I swapped my watch for it,” Jeff muttered; and he drew the brim of his hat lower over his burning eyes. “Your watch!” Amanda cried. “Why, what are we goin' to do for a timepiece now? Besides, we didn't have to go armed all along that lonely mountain road; what is the need of a pistol here in the edge of town, among old friends an' law-abidin' neighbors?” “That's _my_ business,” Warren snarled, and he turned out into the dark. “Folks will _know_ it's my business, too. You jest lie low an' see if they don't. I'll take care of number one.” “I know _how_ you'll take care of number one,” Amanda sneered. “It will be by ignorin' number _three_, like you always have done when you get the devil in you as big as the side of a house. Right now you are just itchin' for a row with somebody, an' you are goin' to have it if I don't take you in hand.”