“I took good care of that,” Redfield said. “They did come, at first, with something to eat, but they knew blame well we'd have wrung their necks if we'd 'a' caught 'em. We meant to starve you out, that's what, and we did it, and if it hadn't been for that good-for-nothing whelp sleeping over his gun you wouldn't have got out alive.” “Well, that's all right now, Jim, and you'd better forgive and forget, both of you,” the Squire interposed. “Dylks has reformed, he tells me; he's sorry for having been a god, and he's going to try to be a man, or as much of a man as he can. He's going to tell the Little Flock so, and then he's going to get out of Leatherwood right off--” Dylks cleared his throat to ask tremulously, “Did I say that, Squire Braile?” “Yes, you did, my friend, and what's more you're going to keep your word, painful as it may be to you. I'll let you manage it your own way, but some way you're going to do it; and in the meantime I'm going to put you under the protection of Jim Redfield, here--” “_My_ protection?” Redfield protested. “Yes, I've sworn you in as special constable, or I will have as soon as I can make out the oath, and have you sign it. And Dylks will get out of the county as soon as he can--he tells me it won't be so easy as we would think; and when he does, it will be much more to the purpose than riding on a rail in a coat of tar and feathers. Why!” he broke off, with a stare at Dylks as if he saw his raggedness for the first time, “you'll want a coat of _some_ kind to show yourself to the Little Flock in; the Herd of the Lost won't mind; they don't want to be so proud of you. I must look up something for you; or perhaps send to Brother Hingston; he's about your size. But that don't matter, now! What I want is your promise, Jim Redfield, and I know you'll do what you say, that you won't tell anybody that the Supreme Being is hiding in my loft, here, till I say so, and when I do, that you'll see no harm comes to him from mortals--from Hounds, and such like, or even the Herd of the Lost. Do you promise?” Redfield hesitated. “If he'll leave the county, yes.” “And _you_, 'Jehovah, Jove or Lord'?” “I will, as quick as I can, Squire Braile; I will, indeed.” The Squire rose from the edge of the bed. “Then this court stands adjourned,” he said formally. Redfield went out with him, leaving Dylks trembling behind. He said, “I ain't sure you ain't making a fool of me, Squire Braile.” “Well, _I_ am,” the Squire retorted. “And don't you make one of yourself, and then there won't be any.” Redfield still hesitated. “I'd just like to had another pull at that horse-tail of his,” he said wistfully. “Well, I knew old man Gillespie hadn't quite the strength. But I thought maybe Hughey Blake helped pull--” “Hughey Blake,” Redfield returned scornfully, “had nothing to do with it.” “Well, anyway, I hear it's converted Jane Gillespie, and she was worth it, though it was rather too much like scalping a live Indian.”