In a few minutes Leach drove past him again, went into the livery-stable and was gone for some time. Harp knew that the stableman was asleep and that Leach would have to stable his own horse. After a time, Leach came out, leading a saddle-horse, which he mounted. It was still too dark to distinguish objects clearly. Leach lighted a cigar or cigaret and rode slowly up the street, going past Harp once more and heading North. Harp thought that Leach might be going back to the Wesson house, but he continued out of town. “In that last fight,” said Harp to himself, “I let him draw and cock his own gun. Huh! In that fist-fight I let up on him, when I had him where I wanted him. But if I ever get at him ag’in he’s got to look out for himself. Bein’ a hero is all right, but I’m all through heroin’ around that danged jigger, y’betcha.” Harp went into the office and sat down on his cot. Brick was asleep in the back room, so Harp went cautiously. He knew that Cale Wesson would spread the news and that everyone in Marlin City would be informed of the fact that Harp Harris had serenaded Mrs. Wesson at four a.m. * * * * * Brick awoke at eight o’clock and found Harp fully dressed. It was not like Harp to be up and doing at that time in the morning. He had left Harp in a poker game in the Dollar Down at midnight, and took it for granted that the game had just broken up. Cale Wesson was just opening his general merchandise store as they went up the street to the restaurant. Cale saw them coming, and began a clumsy imitation of a troubadour. Brick squinted at him, wondering what it was all about; but Harp knew. Cale pointed his nose toward the sky and began singing in a voice that was even worse than the one owned by Harp Harris— “I care not for the sta-a-ars that shi-hine.” Cale paused and seemed to be searching for the proper note. “Well, tha’sall right,” observed Brick. “I never had much use for stars that shine either. I like mine kinda dim, Cale.” Harp’s ears were very red, his jaws shut tight. Brick glanced at him curiously, but Harp remained silent. “What’s the idea, Cale?” queried Brick. “Li’l love-bug, Brick. I can’t tell yuh much more, ’cause I don’t want no scandal in my own family. Me and Ma has been married seventeen years; livin’ peaceful-like with nothin’ to mar our happiness—but things are changin’. Ma’s romantic. I s’pose—” Cale yawned widely, seriously— “I s’pose I’ve got to learn to play some ——ed instrument and lose a lot of sleep, playin’ and singin’ beneath her winder—or take a chance on losin’ her.” “Oh, yeah,” Brick grinned widely, but did not look at Harp. “Well, good luck to yuh, Cale. If yuh want to learn the jew’s-harp, I can put yuh next to a master of the thing. C’mon, Harp.” They went to the restaurant and ordered breakfast. Harp was silent and thoughtful, but Brick did not question him. Cale had told enough for Brick to have a fair idea of what had happened.