"She's--she's gone!" says he, like he was talking, to someone else. "She's run away--from me! She's gone, Curly!" He says it over again, and this time so loud you could of heard it for a block. "Our girl's left here--left her father after all! Curly, tell me, what was this? Could she--did she---- How could she?" I taken the piece of paper from his hand when he didn't see me. It said: Father [I never knew her to call him that before] Father, I'm going away. I'm a thief. I've broken your heart and Curly's and Tom's. I'm the wickedest girl in the world; and I'll never ask your forgiveness, for I don't deserve it. You must not look for me any more. I'm going away. Good-by! Well, that was all. The letter had been all over wet--and a man can't cry. "Curly," says her pa to me--"why, Curly, it can't be! She's hiding--she's just joking; she wouldn't do this with her old pa. She's scared me awful. Come on, let's find her, and tell her she mustn't do this way no more. There's some things a man can't stand." "Colonel," says I, "we got to stand it. She's gone and it ain't no joke." "How do you know?" He turned on me savage now. "Damn you! What do you know? There's nothing wrong about my girl--you don't dare to tell me that there is! She couldn't do no wrong; it wasn't in her." "No," says I; "she wouldn't do anything but what she thought was right, I reckon. But, you see, you and me, we never knew her at all. I didn't till last night about half past twelve or one o'clock." "What do you mean? What did she say?" "She told me she'd got to be a woman." He stood and looked at me; and now I seen I had to come through, for the girl couldn't be saved no more. "Oh, hell, Colonel," says I, "I might of known all along the thing would have to come out--it was due to break some day. I ought to of told you, of course." "What do you mean?" says he; and he caught me once more in his hands--he's strong too. "Turn me loose, Colonel!" says I. "There can't no man put hands on me--I won't have it. I worked for you all my life pretty near, and I done right, near as I knew. Turn loose of me!" He let go easy like, but kept his eyes on me. "I want to be fair," says he, and he half whispered--"I want to be fair; but, the man that's done this'll have to settle with me! Tell me, did you and her plot against me?" "I didn't plot none," says I. "I was only hoping she'd forget all about it and get married and settle down." "Forget about what? Did she have any affairs that you knew about?" I nods then. I was glad to get it off'n my mind. "Yes," says I; "she did." "Who was it, Curly?" says he, quiet. "It was the man next door--the Wisners' hired man," says I. I'd rather of shot Old Man Wright and killed him decent than say what I did then. "You're a damn liar!" says he to me at length, quiet like. "Colonel," says I, "you can't call that to me, nor no other man, and you know it."