"Pretty confident sort of a man, I take it. And after all, bravery is nothing but a sort of over-confidence. But I don't believe that you would kill me; I believe that it would be the other way, and it is not out of fear that I propose a setting aside of our indefinite agreement to meet each other. But be that as it may, we will call it off unless you insist, and if you do, why, as a gentleman I shall be compelled to meet you. I am brave enough to confess that I can't help but admire you morally and physically. In a small way, I was once a demonstrator of anatomy, and from an outside estimate I must pronounce you as fine a specimen of manhood as I ever saw. And if you'll come over to the house we'll take a long drink on the strength of it." "The spirit of your hospitality is not lost upon me, Doctor, but the truth is, I never drink. But with a cheerful willingness I accept your other proposition--to set aside our engagement. It was no more your fault than mine." "Yes, it was, Mr. Hawes--I wantonly nagged at you. But we will let it drop. Under present conditions we can't be very good friends, but there will come a time when you must acknowledge that malice may know what it is to be honest, if not generous." "Don't go now, Doctor; you have interested me. Tell me what you mean." "I wish you good-day, Mr. Hawes," was his reply, as he strode off down the lane. And he left me holding him in a strange sort of regard; he had flattered me and had hinted at a future generosity. Could it be that he intended to modify his evidence when again he should appear against Alf? A demonstrator of anatomy--and he could soothe a nerve as well as expose a muscle. I felt kindly toward him as I rode along, though blaming myself for my weakness. But I have never known a very large man who had not some vital weakness--of vanity, egotism, over-generosity, foolish tenderness--something in ill-keeping with a well-poised morality. With old Sir John we have more flesh, and, therefore, more of frailty. As I came within sight of the house I saw three men slowly walking about in the yard, and, upon reaching the gate, I recognized them as Parker, Jucklin and Perdue. I turned the horse into a lot and joined them. "Well," said Jucklin, "it's all over and I have sold out to Parker." "Not the house, too!" I cried in alarm. The old man smiled and winked at Parker. "Well, not quite," he said. "Guinea told me what you wanted, and sir, you can have it, though I tell you right now that it ain't worth much." "Will you take two hundred dollars?" "Not from you, Bill. You may have the house and the path and the spring and the strip of moss, for if you haven't earned that and more----"