He was becoming too philosophical to suit Margaret, and she told him that he did not seem to realize the loss of his daughter. "Don't I? Wall, jest say the word an' I'll set down on a stump an' cry." "Yes, but you wouldn't cry if it was me that was gone. Oh, anybody's goin' would put you out mo' than mine, an' you was jest achin' for a chance to show me." "Then if you have give me the chance I must thank you for bein' so accommodatin'. But I wish you wouldn't worry me now, Margaret. In one respeck the goin' away of the folks was a blessin' fur the trouble that has been a threatenin' for some time is shorely a comin.' Don't nag me." "Do I bother you, Jasper, an' trouble a comin' too? Well, I won't. I wonder if I ain't as mean as I can be." "No, you're all right. An' it must be me that's as mean as a old dog a layin' in the corner of the fence with a bone. If I know'd how I'd go an' meet that trouble. Thar ain't nuthin' much wuss then to set down an' wait fur it to come sore-footed along the road, a lookin' fur you." "But you won't do nuthun' outen the way, will you Jasper?" "Nuthin'. I've shown all along that I was tryin' to keep out of a diffikilty. Wall, I'll walk on around the place--by myse'f, Margaret, fur I want to think." He went slowly away, changing his course from time to time as he looked back and saw that she was watching him; and when she went into the house he walked briskly toward a tree down beneath a hill, and here he sat down, with his hat off. At his feet was a grave, trimmed with muscle shells brought from the creek, and shading the stone at the head was a rose-bush, in bloom. CHAPTER XX. MET IT IN THE ROAD. Long he sat there meditating over something precious as one does expecting trouble; and arising he walked rapidly to the gulch leading to his still house. But, reaching there, no moss-covered logs greeted his eye. There was a smoldering fire, with diminutive whirlpools of white ashes. He wiped his brow and upon a stone he sat down. The law had come with its torch, and for a long time his face was hard and grim. An hour must have passed, and then with an air of gentleness as one resigned to punishment, he went to a rock, the rock under which the spirit boy had dwelt, and reaching beneath it drew forth a Winchester rifle. "I'll pump out these here brass temptations," he said, throwing out the cartridges and slowly, one by one, dropped them into the rivulet. Then, breaking the gun across the rock, he slowly started toward home.