“Waal, Jube say that night whilst him an’ the pa’son roosted like two demented tur-rkey gawblers up thar on them big bluffs right above my forge, they seen no devils, but about midnight two men kem along the road,—powerful dark night it war; they kem gingerly along, an’ Jube say they stopped right thar in front o’ the door o’ the shop. Jube say he knows, kase he hearn one o’ ’em rattlin’ the latch I put on them big doors ter keep ’em from blowin’ open in the wind. An’ then Jube, stiddier waitin’ fur ’em ter go in an’ see what they’d do, jes’ ’lowed he’d skeer ’em, an’ he flapped his arms an’ crowed—Ye ever hear Jube crow?” he demanded suddenly, breaking off. She shook her head slowly from side to side, although she refrained from saying that she did not covet the privilege in future. “Yes-sum. Waal, sir,” continued Clem in pride, “he kin crow like a sure-enough, reg’lar rooster,—ye’d think ’twar haffen a dozen poultry. Skeered the pa’son, sir, bein’ so onexpected, mighty nigh ter death. Jube can’t keep from laffin’ now whenst he tells ’bout’n it, though he say he knows the devil will burn him well fur laffin’ at his dad. An’ them men, they hollered an’ runned a leetle way. An’ then they stopped an’ hailed Jube. An’ all of a suddenly the sheet-lightning flickered up, broad an’ steady, an’ he seen who ’twar.” Marcella’s cheek was burning; her excited bright eyes were still cast down, and how the sunlight at her feet flared luminously into their limpid depths! She could hardly wait to hear, although she knew before she heard. Clem lowered his voice to a husky murmur. “’Twar Jake Baintree, one of ’em,” he said. “An’ the t’other Jube hed never seen afore,—dressed diffe’nt, some similar ter town folks, some o’ the boys say, from what Jube tells: tall, with sandy whiskers, an’ light, an’ quick-steppin’. Oh, Jube will know him agin, ef ever he gits a show at him!” There was a sort of savage exultation in his voice, and in his face as he nodded his head to one side with a burly gesture of triumphant forecast. Marcella felt a sudden cold thrill. She turned her head, and her eyes met his. “How does Jube expec’ ter see him agin? What’s he contrivin’ ter do?” Even Clem Sanders hesitated, conscious that in this lure of happiness he had been led too far. The secret he would not have deemed safe with any woman. Had she been the wife that he wished to make her, he might have contrived to shift, to evade, to postpone. She was not married to him, and he could deny her nothing. “Yes-sum,” he began, with polite preface; “but don’t let them boys know ez I hev tole ye, Marcelly, else they’d string me up ter a tree. Thar’s a lot of ’em a-layin’ fur Jake an’ that strange man.” “What air they a-goin’ ter do ter ’em?” Her voice had risen from its mellow contralto tones into a husky shrillness that was a note of fear, presaging horror. Clem Sanders’s sensibilities were not acute, and he did not recognize its meaning.