"Ah was jes' co-comin' out, Marse Kenny, fo' to he'p yo' kill--yas, suh! Ah was--" The remainder was lost as Kenneth deliberately closed the door behind him and walked over to the negro, who was squatting in a corner with a rifle in his hands. Viola, left alone, crossed to the window and looked out. She was pale and anxious. Her wide, alarmed eyes tried to pierce the darkness outside. Suddenly she started back, pressing her hands to her cheeks. "Oh, my soul!" she murmured. "They could have shot him dead. He could not have seen them." She felt herself turn faint. Then a thrill of exaltation swept over her and she turned quickly toward the kitchen door, her eyes glowing. "And he was not afraid! He ran out to face them alone. He thought they were out there,--he risked being shot to save me from--" The door opened and Kenneth came swiftly into the room. He stopped short, staring at her radiant face. "Oh, Kenny, you--you really believed they were out there,--a crowd of them,--trying to carry me off? Why,--why, that was the bravest thing a man--" "Shucks!" he scoffed. "My tragedy turns out to be the most uproarious farce. I've never seen a funnier one in the theatre. But there is a serious side to it, Viola. Sit down for a minute or two, and I'll tell you. Zachariah is all right. Barked his shins a little, that's all." At the conclusion of his short, unembellished recital, he said: "There is nothing for you to be worried about. They cannot carry out the plot. We are all forewarned now. I should have told you all this before, but I was afraid you would think I was trying to blacken Lapelle. I wanted to catch him red-handed, as the saying is. Isaac Stain is coming in to sleep here to-morrow night, and Zachariah, for all his fear of ghosts and lightning, is not afraid of men. We will be ready for them if they come,--so don't you worry." There was a puzzled frown in her eyes. "I don't see why he should have planned this a week ago, Kenny. I had told him I would marry him. There must be something back of all this." "Do you know anything about a friend of his who is going to be married soon? He spoke to me about it the other day, and asked if a parent could legally deprive a daughter of a share in her deceased father's--" "Why,--that's me, Kenny," she cried excitedly. "I told him that mother would disinherit me entirely if I married him without her consent." A light broke over him. "By jingo!" he cried. "I am beginning to see. Why, it's as plain as day to me now. The beastly scoundrel!" "What do you mean?" "Could your mother very well carry out her threat if he made off with you by force and compelled you to marry him, whether or no?" She stiffened. "I would never,--never consent, Kenny. I would die first." "I suppose you imagine there could be no worse fate than that?" he said, pity in his eyes. She looked puzzled for a moment and then grasped his meaning. Her face blanched.