“I reckon this is a sort o' picnic to you in more ways than one,” Porter remarked, without a trace of humor in his tone, as he spat over the gate and wiped his chin on his bare hand. “You ort to enjoy a day o' freedom, after waitin' two hours at that spring fer Jeff Wade. Gee whiz! half o' Springtown was behind barracks, sayin' prayers an' beggin' the Lord to spare the town from flames. I didn't stay myself. I don't object to watchin' a fisticuff match once in a while, but fellers in a powder-and-ball battle like that seem to try to mow down spectators as hard as they do the'r man. Then I don't like to be questioned in court. A feller has to forgit so dern much, ef he stands to his friends.” “No, we avoided trouble,” said Floyd, in evident aversion to a topic so keenly personal. “So you like my horse! He is really the best I could get at Louisville.” “I reckon.” Porter spat again. “Well, as you say, Wade _will_ shoot an' he kin, too. When he was in the war, they tell me his colonel wanted some sharpshooters an' selected 'im to--but thar's that gal now. Gee whiz! don't she look fluffy?” For the most part, the drive was through the mountains, along steep roads, past yawning gorges, and across rapid, turbulent streams. It was an ideal afternoon for such an outing, and Cynthia had never looked so well, though she was evidently fatigued. Floyd remarked upon this, and she said: “I don't know why it was, but I waked at three o'clock this morning, and could not get back to sleep before father called me at six. Since then I have been hard at work. I'm afraid I shall feel very tired before we get back.” “You must try not to think of fatigue.” Floyd was admiring her color, her hair, her eyes. “Then you ought to relax yourself. There is no use sitting so erect; if you sit that way the jolting over this rough road will break you all to pieces. Don't lean so far from me. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm glad I beat Hillhouse to you. I saw him going to your house the next morning. I know he asked you.” “Yes, he asked me,” Cynthia said, “and I was sorry to disappoint him.” Floyd laughed. “Well, the good and the bad are fighting over you, little girl. One man who, in the eyes of the community, stands for reckless badness, has singled you out, and thrown down the gauntlet to a man who represents the Church, God, and morality--both are grimly fighting for the prettiest human flower that ever grew on a mountain-side.” “I don't like to hear you talk that way.” Cynthia looked him steadily in the eyes. “It sounds insincere; it doesn't come from your heart. I don't like your compliments--your open flattery. You say the same things to other girls.”