“They’d better not! If they did, they’d soon hear from me,” declared the boy, warmly, with that mannish toss of the head which boys have. “I’d soon show ’em who Rupert Gray is. Oh! I say! I met Washy Still up the road yonder, a little way back, looking as sour as vinegar, and you ought to have seen the way I cut him. I passed him just like this” (giving an imitation of his stare), “and you just ought to have seen the way he looked. He looked as if he’d have liked to shoot me.” He burst into a clear, merry laugh. The boy’s description of himself was so exactly like the way Ruth had treated Steve, that she could not forbear smiling. The smile died away, however, and an expression of seriousness took its place. “Rupert, I don’t think it well to make enemies of people——” “Who? Of Washy Still? Pshaw! He knows I hate him—and he hates me. I don’t care. I want him to hate me. I’ll make him hate me worse before I’m done.” It was the braggadocio of a boy. Ruth thought of the gleam of hate that had come into the man’s eyes. “He might do you an injury.” “Who? Washy Still? Let him try it. I’m a better man than he is, any day. But he’d never try it. He’s afraid to look me in the eyes. You don’t like him, do you?” he asked with sudden earnestness. “No, but I think you underestimate him.” “Pshaw! He can’t hurt you—not unless you took his physic—no other way. I asked if you liked him, because—because some people thought you did, and I said you didn’t—I knew you didn’t. I say, I want to ask you something. I wish you wouldn’t let him come to see you.” “Why?” “Why, because he is not a man you ought to associate with—he is not a gentleman. He’s a sneak, and his father’s a thief. He stole our place—just stole it—besides everything else he’s stolen.” “Why, you say we—my father had something to do with that,” said Ruth, quietly. “What! You! Your father?—I said he stole!” He reined up his horse, in his amazement. “In your suit or bill, or whatever you call it.” Ruth felt that it was cruel in her to strike him such a blow, yet she enjoyed it. “I never did—we never did—you are mistaken,” stammered the boy. “Why, I wouldn’t have done it for the whole of Red Rock—no more would Steve. Let me explain. I know all about it.” Ruth looked acquiescent, and as they walked their horses along under the trees the boy tried to explain the matter. He was not very lucid, for he was often confused; but he made clear the desire they had had to keep Major Welch out of the matter, and the sincerity of their motive in giving him the notice before he should buy, and the anxiety they had had and the care they had taken to make it clear in their suit that no charge of personal knowledge by him was intended. He also informed Ruth of Steve’s action in the matter, and of the episode in the office that night when the bill was signed, or, at least, of as much of it as he had heard. “But why did he do that?” asked Ruth. “Don’t you know?” “N—o.” Very doubtfully and shyly.