"All right." The Deacon swung his dangling foot back to the stirrup. "I was just goin' to name it to you that Henry Falkins ain't there. If you're set on walkin' these three miles more for nothin' and then walkin' 'em back again, go right ahead. There'll be half-a-dozen Falkinses to see you and spread the news that you've been skulkin' round the place. You'll give the whole business away without findin' your man. If that's the way you want to play your game, go ahead." The boy gazed at his informant with disappointed eyes, and the Deacon gazed back steadily. "Air ye plumb shore thet he hain't thar? He was thar day before yestiddy. I knows thet fer shore." The boy spoke eagerly, but the more wily schemer shook his head with positiveness. "He left this mornin' for Winchester. Seems he's got a girl in Winchester. Ef you're inclined, you can get up behind me, an' I'll give you a lift as far as I go." Newt believed this story, but it only fired his wrath, and his voice was sour, as he put his next question: "Whut in hell wus you a-doin' over thar at McAllister Falkins' house?" It was naturally no part of the Deacon's program to tell that. His mind was even now working rapidly in the effort to devise some permanent means of curbing Newt's sinister activities. The present device of falsification was merely a play for time and would serve a very transitory purpose. "Oh," he said casually, "I don't mind tellin' you, but I wouldn't like it to get round much, son. I was pullin' the wool over their eyes, an' tryin' to help out those boys that shot Jake Falerin." But, if Black Pete Spooner could have looked far enough into the future, he would have allowed his lawless cousin to go his way and satisfy his vengeance, and would have taken his own chance on escape. The two rode on together, up steep ascents and down into fragrant gorges where the waters whispered and the dampness of fern and moss lay between dripping bowlders. They went through densely tangled trails where the incense of the elder and catalpa was heavy to the nostrils, and climbed over steep and precipitous heights, and to neither came a throb of enthusiasm for the profligate beauty of the vistas. * * * * * "Clem's gal" had gone back to school some time ago, and it was only on vacations and Saturdays that she returned to the cabin on Troublesome.