"You stay where you are, father!" She faced him with spirit. "You have insulted me worse than you've insulted Harlan. You needn't worry about my going behind your back to make love to any one. But you shall not break up the dearest friendship I ever had." This was the Clare Kavanagh who had bearded even Thelismer Thornton that day--the imperious young beauty that the country-side knew. Her father had often tested that spirit before, and had allowed her to dominate, secretly proud that she was truly his own in violence of temper and in determination to have her own way. But just now he was lacking that tolerantly humorous mood which usually gave in to her. "To the devil with your fiddle-de-dee friendship!" he shouted. "You're sixteen, you young Jezebel; and you--you're old enough to know better, Thornton. I know what it's leading to, and it ain't going further. I'll not stand here and argue with you. But if you come meddling in my family after what I've said, you'll get hurt, young man." "That's right--we won't argue the question," Thornton retorted. "There's nothing to argue. You know where I stand in the matter, little girl. That's all there is to it, so far as we're concerned. I'm going now. I think I'm ready for that talk with my grandfather." He took leave of her with a frank handclasp. Kavanagh glowered, but did not comment. When Harlan whirled his horse he saw the conflagration on the Jo Quacca hills. He gasped something like an oath. "There goes the slash on our operation!" he said, aloud. "Your grandfather must have got you into politics in good shape by this time," observed Kavanagh, sarcastically. "At any rate, he seems to be celebrating with a good big bonfire." At that moment the three of them beheld the farm buildings burst into flame. "Offering up sacrifices, too!" commented the satirist. "Seems to me, Thornton, you ought to be there. They'll be calling for three cheers and a speech!" In one heartsick moment Thornton realized that this raging fire had something to do with the political affairs of that day. He had seen "Whispering" Urban Cobb at "The Barracks" in the forenoon, and knew that he had led away a crowd of woodsmen for some purpose of his own. Just what a dangerous conflagration on the Jo Quacca hills could accomplish in relation to that caucus, Harlan did not stop to ponder. He could see that a fire was rioting over his lands, and destroying the property of others. His horse had already begun to leap for the highway, but the girl cried after him so beseechingly that he reined the animal back. "Just one moment, Harlan! A little instant! I haven't unsaddled Zero yet. Wait!" She whistled, and the horse came cantering. The hounds, seeing him, leaped and gave tongue understandingly. "I'm going with you," she declared, swinging to her saddle. Her father came down off the steps, running at her. "No, you're not, you wild banshee. What did I just tell you?"