And up in the store Devil Judd lighted his pipe and sat down to think out the strange code of ethics that governed that police-guard. Hale had told him to wait there, and it was almost noon before the boy with the cap came to tell him that the Falins had all left town. The old man looked at him kindly. “Air you the little feller whut fit fer June?” “Not yet,” said Bob; “but it's coming.” “Well, you'll whoop him.” “I'll do my best.” “Whar is she?” “She's waiting for you over at the boarding-house.” “Does she know about this trouble?” “Not a thing; she thinks you've come to take her home.” The old man made no answer, and Bob led him back toward Hale's office. June was waiting at the gate, and the boy, lifting his cap, passed on. June's eyes were dark with anxiety. “You come to take me home, dad?” “I been thinkin' 'bout it,” he said, with a doubtful shake of his head. June took him upstairs to her room and pointed out the old water-wheel through the window and her new clothes (she had put on her old homespun again when she heard he was in town), and the old man shook his head. “I'm afeerd 'bout all these fixin's--you won't never be satisfied agin in Lonesome Cove.” “Why, dad,” she said reprovingly. “Jack says I can go over whenever I please, as soon as the weather gits warmer and the roads gits good.” “I don't know,” said the old man, still shaking his head. All through dinner she was worried. Devil Judd hardly ate anything, so embarrassed was he by the presence of so many “furriners” and by the white cloth and table-ware, and so fearful was he that he would be guilty of some breach of manners. Resolutely he refused butter, and at the third urging by Mrs. Crane he said firmly, but with a shrewd twinkle in his eye: “No, thank ye. I never eats butter in town. I've kept store myself,” and he was no little pleased with the laugh that went around the table. The fact was he was generally pleased with June's environment and, after dinner, he stopped teasing June. “No, honey, I ain't goin' to take you away. I want ye to stay right where ye air. Be a good girl now and do whatever Jack Hale tells ye and tell that boy with all that hair to come over and see me.” June grew almost tearful with gratitude, for never had he called her “honey” before that she could remember, and never had he talked so much to her, nor with so much kindness. “Air ye comin' over soon?” “Mighty soon, dad.” “Well, take keer o' yourself.” “I will, dad,” she said, and tenderly she watched his great figure slouch out of sight. An hour after dark, as old Judd sat on the porch of the cabin in Lonesome Cove, young Dave Tolliver rode up to the gate on a strange horse. He was in a surly mood. “He lemme go at the head of the valley and give me this hoss to git here,” the boy grudgingly explained. “I'm goin' over to git mine termorrer.” “Seems like you'd better keep away from that Gap,” said the old man dryly, and Dave reddened angrily.