Warren's innate gallantry checked the hot outburst, the forerunner of which was quivering on his white lips, and without a word he went back to the well and stood with his hand on the windlass, a pitiful symbol of human discontent outlined against the star-strewn sky. “I ain't a-goin' to put my hands in dish-water till my mind's at ease,” Amanda said to her sister. “Poor thing! I reckon you feel so bad about the way we are fixed that you ain't bothered about Jeff's fits: But it's different with your sister Mandy. When you was a young gal I worried about whether you'd git married or not. Later I was bothered about your first choice an' his jealous suspicions. Next I turned into a wet-nurse; I walked the floor with your baby at night, stickin' splinters in my feet at every step, an' _now_ I've got to keep your last investment from danglin' from the gallows like a scarecrow on a pole.” Together the two women went to the brooding man at the well. “What ails you, Jeff?” the wife began, with a timid sigh. “Anybody can see you are out o' sorts.” “Well, I'll _tell_ you what's the matter,” Warren fumed. “If I'd knowed it sooner I'd 'a' left you two beyant the mountain an' come on an' got it over with. I don't want to disturb women with a thing o' this sort.” “Wayburn's goin' to turn us out, that's my guess,” Amanda dropped. “The shack ain't no better'n a stable for hosses, but we can't have even that without more cash than we've got.” “No, he's had one of his old quarrels with somebody,” Mrs. Warren suggested, despondently. “I hain't had one, but I'm _goin_' to,” Jeff threatened. “This State simply ain't wide enough, or _long_ enough, to hold me and the dirty young pup that left me lyin' in the road for dead an' went off an' gloated over me. He was a boy then, but he's a man now, an' fully responsible.” “Why, what are you talkin' about?” Amanda's inquiring stare shifted excitedly back and forth between her sister's startled face and the sinister one of her brother-in-law. “Is Paul alive--have you heard from him?” “Heard from 'im?” Jeff's white lip curled and trembled like that of a snarling opossum. “I hain't heard from him personally yet, nor seed 'im, but he's back here struttin' around in fine clothes with plenty o' money in his pocket, an' sayin' that--” “Oh, Jeff, oh, Jeff, are you sure?” Mrs. Warren had turned pale, and it was as if she were about to faint. Amanda threw a strong arm about her and firmly shook her. “Don't keel over,” she said, almost fiercely. “I want to know about this thing right now. All this dinky-dinky talk about shootin' may pass on _some_ occasions, but when the big strappin' hulk I work for gits on a high jackass an' talks about killin' my own blood-nephew because he's got more clothes an' money than we got--well, I'll be in the game myself, that's the long an' short of it, I'll be in it tooth an' toe-nail.”