JIM. [_In door._] Hello? KATE. [_Behind table._] Well? JIM. [_After looking slowly about._] Where is he? KATE. I--I--where is who? JIM. [_In a matter of course way_] Travers. KATE. Why, how should I know? JIM. Then why don't you jes' say you don't know? KATE. [_Behind chair._] Well, then, I don't know. JIM. [_Shaking his head._] Too late now. KATE. Too late? JIM. Yes--if it'd been all right, you wouldn't a-tried to dodge me. KATE. [_Near melodeon._] You may think as you choose. JIM. [_Pause._] I'm awful sorry for you, Kate. KATE. Oh, you needn't be. JIM. [_On the "qui vive."_] But I want to see Mr. Travers. KATE. [_In distress._] You--you annoy me very much. [_Sits left of table._ JIM. [_In real tenderness._] Why, Kate--Katie--see here--I'm your friend--they ain't anybody in the world feels as bad for you as I do--but be reasonable--it's only a question of time. I s'pose every man in Bowlin' Green that owns a gun or a bowie knife's collectin' up there at the Court House--your own pa and Dave--they'll be back here after a while--and what then?--don't you see? KATE. It's horrible--don't tell me it is duty makes them hunt a fellow-man like that. [_Rises._ JIM. I don't pretend to know anything about that--[_Pause. Picks up dipper; looks at_ KATE.] Poor chap--thirsty--oh, well--that's your business, Kate. [_Puts dipper on the bench._ KATE. [_At bay herself._] You're not a man, Jim Radburn, you're a bloodhound--you _hunt_ men. JIM. Yes! [_Pause._ KATE. Yes. [_End of rocker-chair._ JIM. See here, Kate--I want a word or two with Mr. Travers. I think the honestest thing he ever done was liking you--I-- KATE. [_Fiercely._] And that is why you _hate_ him! You think he likes _me_! You think if it hadn't been for _him_ I might have liked _you_! Well, I do like him--[_Pause._] that's why you hunt him! It isn't your duty prompts you--it's your jealousy! JIM. [_A pause in which he decides the question._] He's in that closet. KATE. [_Turning._] He is not. JIM. [_Straddling a chair and facing closet. Speaks in ordinary tone._] Travers, _come out_. If you don't come out, I'll shoot through the door. TRAVERS. [_Bursting from closet and levelling pistol._] Throw up your hands! JIM. [_Pause. In fateful monotone._] You're a damn fool! The sound of a gun now would fill both them streets with pitchforks. KATE. Don't--don't--shoot. JIM. Oh, he won't! TRAVERS. Do you think you can arrest me--alive? JIM. It don't make no difference to me. KATE. [_Anxiously pleading._] If you are innocent, Mr. Travers--if you have acted in self-defence-- JIM. Wait, Kate--we ain't got time to _try_ him now. He ain't got time; the boys are waiting up at the Court House. Mr. Travers, this young lady likes you--very much. [_He slowly rises._ TRAVERS. [_Still covering him._] I know the cause of your hatred, Mr. Radburn--I know you are here because I love her.