"You don't need to," smiled Buck rather grimly. "I have my doubts whether he'd take the word from a gal o' yo' size; but I'm sure a-goin' to lay for him or Sylvane and tell 'em what I know. I'd thank anybody to do the same by me." During the rest of the meal Buck seemed to be in deep thought; Rilly watched him anxiously. It was the next Saturday afternoon that Lance was down doing some trading. About dusk Fuson, coming home from his work, found him on the street corner preparing to get his wagon from the public yard and make a night ride up the mountain. In these days Lance made most of his journeyings after dark, shunning the faces of his neighbors. "I was sorter watchin' for ye, Lance," said his friend. "I wanted to talk to ye--to tell ye somethin'." Lance shot a swift glance at Fuson; but he answered promptly, and with seeming indifference: [325] "All right, Buck; come on down to Dowst's with me." They walked side by side down to the tiny, dingy, deserted office of the wagon yard. Here a small stove, crammed with the soft coal of the region till the molten, smoky stuff dripped from the sagging corners of the gaping door to its firebox, made the room so intolerably warm that the window was left open. On a high desk rudely constructed of plank, an ill-tended kerosene lamp flared and generated evil odors. From nails upon the wall hung harness and whips, horse blankets, and one or two articles of male wearing-apparel. A dog-eared calendar over the desk gave the day of the month to the blacksmith when he was forced at long last to make out bills. Alone together, safe from interruptions, the two young fellows faced each other for a moment in constrained silence. Then, hastily, awkwardly, halting and hesitating for a word now and again. Buck gave the information which he thought was due. "Now, that's what was said," he finally made an end when he had repeated all that Rilly heard, and all that he himself had since gathered from various sources, of Flenton Hands's boasting concerning Callista Cleaverage. Something agonized in Lance's gaze, something which looked out desperately interrogating, brought Buck to himself with a gasp. [326] "Rilly and me knowed every word was lies," he hastened to add. "We come a-past the Gentry place to see Callisty as we was on our way down here--you remember, Lance, that day we was at yo' house. Flenton Hands was named betwixt us, and Callisty she said that she didn't know nothing about the man nor his doings. She said she'd went to her gran'pappy and axed him to warn Flent off the place, becaze she wouldn't have the sort of talk be held." Noting the sudden relief which showed in Lance's countenance, Fuson added, half doubtfully, "'Course you might pay no attention to it, seein' it's all lies." The quiet Lance flashed a sword-like look at him that was a revelation. "Oh, no," he said. "The thing has got to be stopped. The only question is, how soon and how best can I get at Flenton Hands and stop it?"