“What’s the matter with you? And take that look off your face,” said Lew Brady viciously. “I’m not blaming you for being sweet on her. I like to see people admire my wife, even such kids as you.” “Your wife!” said Ray again. He could not believe the man was speaking the truth. “Is she—is she a Frog?” “Why shouldn’t she be?” said Brady. “And keep your voice down, can’t you? That fat old devil behind the counter is trying hard to listen. Of course she’s Frog, and she’s crook. We’re all crooks. You’re crook too. That’s the way with Lola, she likes the crooks best. Perhaps you’ll have a chance, after you’ve done a job or two——” “You beast!” hissed Ray, and struck the man full in the face. Before Lew Brady could come to his feet, the landlord was between them. “Outside, both of you!” he shouted, and, dashing to the door, roared half a dozen names. He was back in time to see Lew Brady on his feet, glaring at the other. “You’ll know all about that, Mr. Carter, one of these days,” he said. “I’ll settle with you!” “And, by God, I’ll settle with you!” said Ray furiously, and at that moment a brawny ostler caught him by the arm and flung him into the road outside. He waited for Brady to come out. “I’ve finished with you,” he said. His face was white, his voice was quivering. “Finished with the whole rotten shoot of you! I’m going back.” “You’re not going back,” said Lew. “Oh, listen, boy, what’s making you mad? We’ve got to go on to Gloucester, and we might as well finish our job. And if you don’t want to be with me after that—well, you can go ahead just as you like.” “I’m going alone,” said Ray. “Don’t be a fool.” Lew Brady came after him and seized his arm. For a second the situation looked ugly to the onlookers, and then, with a shrug, Ray Bennett suffered the arm to remain. “I don’t believe you,” he said—the first words he spoke for half an hour after they had left the _Red Lion_. “Why should you have lied?” “I’ve got sick of your good temper, that’s the whole truth, Ray—just sick to death of it. I had to make you mad, or I’d have gone mad myself.” “But is it true about Lola?” “Of course it’s not true,” lied Brady contemptuously. “Do you think she’d have anything to do with a chap like me? Not likely! Lola’s a good girl. Forget all I said, Ray.” “I shall ask her myself. She wouldn’t lie to me,” said the boy. “Of course she wouldn’t lie to you,” agreed the other. They were nearing their rendezvous now—the tree-furred cut in the hills—and his eyes were searching for the three white trunks that the lightning had struck. Presently he saw them. “Come on in, and I’ll tell you all about it,” he said. “I’m not going to walk much farther to-day. My feet are so raw you couldn’t cook ’em!” He led the way between the trees, over the age-old carpet of pine needles, and presently he stopped. “Sit down here, boy,” he said, “and let us have a drink and a smoke.”