Oliver looked her over thoughtfully. "I can't say that I get what you're driving at at all," he observed. "But it seems to me that you're trying to convey that, with the Seldens and Digger Foss eliminated, there is no danger." She closed her eyes and gave him several vigorous, exaggerated nods. "But aren't all of the Poison Oakers concerned in my speedy removal from this country?" "Well--yes"--hesitatingly. "That's right. But the four will not molest me. I know. Please let's not argue about what I _know_ is right!" His lips twitched amusedly. "But one of the four _might_ take a pot-shot at me. Is that it?" Again the series of nods, eyes closed. "You see," she said, "only the Seldens and Digger Foss accuse me of being on your side. So if any one of the other four were to see me go to the spring he'd think I was merely after water, or something. But if you were to go, why--why, it might be different." Saying which she unexpectedly darted away from him up the ravine, left the shelter of the trees, and walked boldly to the spring. She parted the bushes and disappeared from sight. Oliver stole quickly to the edge of the cover and hid behind a tree, his Colt unholstered and hanging in his hand. His eyes scoured the timbered hills on both sides of the spring, but not a movement did he see. He puzzled over Jessamy's speech as he watched for evidences of a hostile demonstration. "It smacks of a counter-plot," he mused. "All of the Poison Oakers want me out of here, but only the Seldens and the halfbreed are aware that Jessamy is friendly with me. But these four _must_ know it--everybody in the country does by now. It would look as if Old Man Selden and his chosen five are the only ones who suspect her of having an interest in me beyond pure friendship, then. That's it! She said there was another reason other than the grazing matter why Old Man Selden wants me away. And that can't be moonshining, after all; for if Pense and the others are likely to shoot me at the spring, they're in on that. But now apparently Selden wants to appear friendly. I can't get it! Jessamy's not playing just fair with me. She's keeping something back. She's too honest and straightforward to be a good dissembler; she's bungling all the way." She was returning swiftly down the ravine before he had reached the end of his conclusions. She held up something between dripping fingers as she entered the concealment of the trees. "It's perfect still," she announced. "I thought it wouldn't be flattened or bent, since it struck the water." Oliver took the small, soft-pointed, steel-banded projectile from her hands and studied it. "M'm-m!" he muttered. "What's this? Looks no larger than a twenty-two." She nodded. "So I'd say. A twenty-two high-power--wicked little pill." "And which of the Poison Oakers packs a twenty-two high-power rifle? Do you know?"