Through the haze of a brain still fogged and reeling, Henderson became aware of a hatred so bitter that it dwarfed into petulance that of the murder horde at the Quarterhouse. "Ye come hyar ... an' we tuck ye in." The tone rose from feebleness to an iron steadiness as it continued. "When I come inter ther Quarterhouse I 'lowed ye'd done turned traitor an' joined Kinnard Towers ... but since they sought ter kill ye, mayhap I war misguided.... Thet don't make no difference, now, nohow." He paused and struggled for breath. "Ye tuck Blossom away from me ... ye made her love ye because she hadn't never knowed ... an eddicated man afore.... All my days an' nights I'd dreamed of her.... Ter make her happy, I'd gladly hev laid down my life ... but I war jest a rough mounting man ... an' then she seed _you_." Henderson's lips moved in a futile effort as Bear Cat halted, gasping. His hand wavered in a weak gesture of protest--as against an unjust charge. But Bear Cat's voice leaped suddenly. "Don't stop me! Thar hain't much time left! You an' me needs ter go ter God's jedgment seat with our jobs finished.... I don't censure Blossom none ... hit war es rightful thet she should want a _real_ life ... es fer ther flowers ter want sunshine.... But _you_! Ye stole her love--an' then abandoned her." Henderson's eyes were eloquent with a denial--but the darkness hid it--and his lips refused utterance, while the other talked on, feebleness muting the accusing voice to a lower timbre. "She warn't good enough fer _you_--her thet war too good fer any man! But perchance ye may be wiser dyin' then livin'." The weak utterance mounted into inexorable command. "Now ye're a-goin' ter make good afore ye dies.... She trusted ye ... an--" Turner broke suddenly into a deep sob of agony. "I don't know how fur ye taxed her trust ... but I knows she told me she had full faith in ye, an' faith like thet don't stop ter reckon up costs. Now she's sickenin' away--an' thet trust is broke ... an' I reckon her heart's broke, too." Henderson moistened his lips and with a supreme effort succeeded in whispering almost inaudibly, "That's a lie." "A lie is hit? She gave ye her lips," went on the burning indictment. "An' in these hills when a woman like Blossom gives her lips ter a man, she gives him her soul ter keep.... Ye're a mountain man yoreself ... ye knows full well what mountain folks holds.... Ye hain't got no excuse of ign'rance ter hide behind. Ye knows thet withouten ye weds her, folks will tell lies an' she won't never be able ter hold up her head--ner smile again." "Stacy--" Henderson had rallied a little now, but he sagged back and at first got no further than the name. With another struggle, he added, "I ... I'm dying----"