Slone caught his breath then. He realized suddenly, at Bostil's paling face, that perhaps he had dared too much. Yet, maybe the truth flung into this hard old rider's teeth was what he needed more than anything else. Slone divined, rather than saw, that he had done an unprecedented thing. "I'll go now, Bostil." Slone nodded a good-by to the riders, and, turning away, he led the two horses down the lane toward the house. It scarcely needed sight of Lucy under the cottonwoods to still his anger and rouse his regret. Lucy saw him coming, and, as usual, started to avoid meeting him, when sight of the horses, or something else, caused her to come toward him instead. Slone halted. Both Wildfire and Nagger whinnied at sight of the girl. Lucy took one flashing glance at them, at Slone, and then she evidently guessed what was amiss. "Lucy, I've done it now--played hob, sure," said Slone. "What?" she cried. "I called your dad--called him good an' hard--an' he--he--" "Lin! Oh, don't say Dad." Lucy's face whitened and she put a swift hand upon his arm--a touch that thrilled him. "Lin! there's blood--on your face. Don't--don't tell me Dad hit you?" "I should say not," declared Slone, quickly lifting his hand to his face. "Must be from my cut, that blood. I barked my hand holdin' Wildfire." "Oh! I--I was sick with--with--" Lucy faltered and broke off, and then drew back quickly, as if suddenly conscious of her actions and words. Then Slone began to relate everything that had been said, and before he concluded his story his heart gave a wild throb at the telltale face and eyes of the girl. "You said that to Dad!" she cried, in amaze and fear and admiration. "Oh, Dad richly deserved it! But I wish you hadn't. Oh, I wish you hadn't!" "Why?" asked Slone. But she did not answer that. "Where are you going?" she questioned. "Come to think of that, I don't know," replied Slone, blankly. "I started back to fetch my things out of my room. That's as far as my muddled thoughts got." "Your things? ... Oh!" Suddenly she grew intensely white. The little freckles that had been so indistinct stood out markedly, and it was as if she had never had any tan. One brown hand went to her breast, the other fluttered to his arm again. "You mean to--to go away--for good." "Sure. What else can I do?" "Lin! ... Oh, there comes Dad! He mustn't see me. I must run.... Lin, don't leave Bostil's Ford--don't go--DON'T!"