Forrest struck the flooding trough again, still more sharply, so that the fretting young horse lunged and wheeled, and Lem sidled out of possible range. He saw Ketchem brought firmly back, then went on cautiously, "He stood watchin’ her a minute an’ I see his face was whiter’n ashes, an’ er kind o’ white fire was blazin’ out’n his eyes. Then he says powerful slow, ’Is it ther black’s master?’ "An’ she looks off down ther trail ’ith her cheeks gittin’ pink as rhododendron flowers in ther springtime, an’ says, ’As long as I live I shall never love any man but—’" Lem paused, smiling his impish smile,—"’Jedge Kingsley,’" he added. Forrest’s whip hand fell limp at his side. He drew a sharp breath and looked at the boy. The sternness went out of his face; there came over it a great weariness; his eyes brimmed misery. "Gee, gee," said Lem, "I wisht you’d a be’n there. ’You are goin’ ter marry me,’ says he. An’ he unslung Colonel’s lariat an’ jumps on ther chestnut. But he wa’n’t countin’ ernough on that ther pack-horse. I shied er stone at him an’ it took him smart on ther flank an he broke away like mad fur Salal prairie. Colonel he flung up his head, an’ ’fore he could make up his mind bout Baldy, he heard them ther Gov’ment men poundin’ up ther trail. The same minute he felt his rope, an he jes’ give ernother fling an’ jerked clear, an’ swung ’round an’ fit out fur ther schoolhouse. A bird couldn’t o’ ketched him. An’ when he got ther he gentled down, nice as er kitten, an’ waited fur Mose,—I ’low it must o’ be’n Mose,—ter kem an’ untie ther schoolmarm." There was a brief silence, during which the young man again regarded the brimming trough and Lem watched him. Then the boy said, arbitrating with some remaining atom of conscience, "I ’low I hedn’t no call ter say what I did ’bout ther Jedge." "No," answered Forrest quickly, "No, Lem, you’re right. But I’m hardly the man to repeat it, and I happened to know it already. I’ve known it for a long time." A pull at the bridle; a word to the horse. "Good-by, Lem," he said. Then, as Ketchem broke into a canter, he turned in his saddle to throw a piece of silver to the rogue. The lane was muddy, after a heavy rain, and the coin dropped into a little pool. But Lem secured it, and having wiped it on the seat of his trousers, examined it narrowly. "It’s a dollar," he exclaimed. "A hull dollar. Beats me what it’s fur. Mus’ be fur talkin’. I wisht,—" slowly, as one who sees lost possibilities,—"gee, gee, I wisht I’d a said more." He slipped the money into his pocket with a swift look at his mother, milking still in the corral, "Ef dad knew he’d ’low it’s bout time fur me ter be payin’ board."