“You mustn’t talk that way, Tom,” she remonstrated. “You just mustn’t. I won’t listen. I’ve told you that before. I can’t listen to such things. Why were you going to Vailstown tonight?” He ignored her question. “Well, I’m right, and you know it. I love you, and I’d make you happy. He’s the only thing in the way. So far as your happiness is concerned, he’d be better off dead, and I wish he was. Oh, I know it’s a rotten thing to say, but I do. Look at that.” He leaned forward suddenly, and gripped her by the shoulder, pulling her toward him. “Your neck’s bruised black and blue. You think I don’t notice things like that, don’t you? I know how he treats you when he’s crazy drunk—and I’m the only one who does. And I can’t do anything about it because you won’t let me.” “Tom—I—” “And because he’s your stepfather, you won’t let anybody say a word against him. But you know he’s no good to himself, or anybody else. He’d be better off dead, and you know it. Somebody’ll get him one of these days, too—the way he acts down there at the Gulch when he’s drunk—you wait and see. Some day they’ll find him lying in a gully or something, where somebody’s pushed him. He hasn’t got a decent friend in the world—only the bums are good enough for him. And that damn One-Eyed Charlie he pals around with.” Beth sighed hopelessly. “Some day they’ll find him dead down there,” the boy went on. “Charlie’ll do it, maybe—he’s a rattlesnake anyway. And when he talks to me like he did today, and I see your neck horribly bruised the way it is now, I feel as if I could do it myself, sometimes—if I had a good chance.” His words shocked her, perhaps even more because some little whispering devil inside said it would be better that way—better for all three of them. She rose abruptly, and bending down, put her hands on the boy’s shoulders, looking him squarely in the face. “Tom, you didn’t mean that,” she said evenly. His eyes shifted and avoided her own, and she felt her heart leap with sudden fear. “Well, I feel as if I could, anyway,” he answered, sullenly. “And you wouldn’t be sorry—deep down in your heart.” “Tom, you can’t talk this way. I won’t listen. Don’t you understand—I won’t listen.” She pulled her chair close beside him. He put his arm about her shoulders and drew her to him hungrily. “Tom, why were you going to Vailstown tonight?” she asked again, when he had released her. “I—I—” He seemed to make a sudden decision. “I wasn’t going to tell you, Beth, till I was sure.” He met her searching gaze squarely. “I think I’ve struck it, Beth—over there on Cedar Creek. It looks good—pans richer than anything around the Gulch. I wanted to get it recorded in Vailstown tonight. Then, if everything was all right, I was going to phone you.” His face was flushed and eager now, and very boyish. She leaned forward and kissed him. “I’m so glad. Tom. At last—you deserve it. You’ve worked hard.” “I think I’ve got it, Beth—got it for you, just like I said I would.”