"He air, too," contradicted the girl rebelliously. "He air ercomin' back an' he's promised ter help me git edercation." Judd laughed shortly. "I warned him fair ter keep erway, an' p'inted my warnin' with a rifle ball." Rose's eyes widened in horror. "Yo' ... yo' means yo' shot him, Judd?" she whispered, with both hands pressed to her breast. "Shot him? No. I didn't aim fer ter hurt him, an' 'twarn't in nowise necessary. I jest put a bullet past his head an' he run like a skeered rabbit." "Taint so. He never run from no one," she cried staunchly. "Wall, hit shor' appeared like hit ter me," was the gloating answer. Feminine instinct gave Rose an intuitive insight into the real reasons which underlay Donald's apparent flight; but pride sealed her lips, just as she was on the point of explaining triumphantly that the doctor had been called back home that day, and that it was the following summer when he would return. "Juddy," she said gently, after a moment, "yo' hed no reason fer doin' what yo' done. Hit war mighty wrong, but I fergives ye. I wants ter still be friends with ye. I wants ye ter help me, Juddy." The last words were breathed softly, and the naive appeal in her voice brought the hostile man quickly back to submissive and worshipful fealty. "Yo' know thet I'd do enything in the world fer ye, Smiles," he answered simply. "I believes thet yo' _think_ yo' would, Judd, but I wonders ef, deep in yo'r heart, yo' really keers ernough fer me ter ... I kaint scarcely explain what I means. I reckon I air powerful ignerrant in speecherfyin'." "I don't rightly know what yo' means, Smiles, but I give ye my promise ter do whatsoever yo' wants, ef hit takes my life," he declared earnestly, his former selfish desire to bend her will into compliance with his own for the moment yielding to his blind eagerness to prove his love. Youthful and unsophisticated in worldly wiles as she was, the eternal feminine in Rose sensed her victory and power, and, still maintaining her half commanding, half tenderly appealing tone, she outlined her plan, for the accomplishment of which his aid was all essential. Judd protested, pleaded and stormed--all to no avail. He felt himself like a man caught in a snare of his own weaving--a snare strengthened by fair, yet unbreakable, silken threads added by the child. Finally, miserable at heart, he yielded, and departed with his hand tingling from the impulsive affectionate pressure of Smiles' fingers upon it. But, as the conscious thrill which it caused in his being lessened, his thoughts became immersed in gloom, through which no encouraging light made its way. He realized that he had lost the first battle for her heart, and the loss brought closer the dark spectre of ultimate defeat. CHAPTER VII "SMILES'" GIFT: AND THE "WRITING" "Now, my boy, let us hear an account of your trip. Did you enjoy it, and find anything of especial interest in the mountains of the feud country?"