Wash answered with a scowl; “Sammy’s gettin’ too dad burned good fer me since Ollie’s uncle took him in. An’ now, this here old man from nowhere has come, it’s worse than ever. She’ll put a rope ’round our necks th’ first thing you know.” Jim’s right hand slipped quietly inside his hickory shirt, where the button was missing, as he drawled, “My girl always was too good for some folks. And it’s about time you was a findin’ it out. She can’t help it. She was born that way. She’s got mighty good blood in her veins, that girl has; and I don’t aim to ever let it be mixed up with none of the low down common yeller kind.” The deliberate purpose of the speaker was too evident to be mistaken. The other man’s hand flew to his hip almost before Mr. Lane had finished his sentence. But Wash was not quick enough. Like a flash Jim’s hand was withdrawn from inside the hickory shirt, and the giant looked squarely into the muzzle of Jim Lane’s ever ready, murderous weapon. In the same even voice, without the slightest allusion to the unfinished movement of the other, Mr. Lane continued, “I done told you before that my girl would pick her own company, and I ain’t never feared for a minute that she’d take up with such as you. Ollie Stewart ain’t so mighty much of a man, maybe, but he’s clean, he is, and the stock’s pretty good. Now you can just listen to me, or you can mosey out of that door, and the next time we meet, we will settle it for good, without any further arrangement.” As Sammy’s father talked, the big figure of his visitor relaxed, and when Jim had finished his slow speech, Wash was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front. “We ain’t got no call t’ fight, now, Jim,” he said in a tone of respect. “We got something else t’ think about; an’ that’s what I come here fer t’night. I didn’t aim t’, ’til I seed what I did at th’ ranch down yonder. I tell you hit’s time we was a doin’ somethin’.” At this, Mr. Lane’s face and manner changed quickly. He put up his weapon, and the two men drew their chairs close together, as though Death had not a moment before stretched forth his hand to them. For an hour they sat talking in low tones. Sammy in the next room had heard the conversation up to this point, but now only an occasional word reached her ears. Gibbs seemed to be urging some action, and her father was as vigorously protesting. “I tell you, Jim, hit’s th’ only safe way. You didn’t use t’ be so squeamish.” Several times the old shepherd was mentioned, and also the stranger whom Wash had seen that evening. And once, the trembling girl heard Young Matt’s name. At length the guest rose to go, and Mr. Lane walked with him to the gate. Even after the big man was mounted, the conversation still continued; Wash still urging and Jim still protesting.