"It's so danged hot this afternoon I can't get over to Grass River; and I got word to meet Jacobs over at the Little Wolf Ranch later, so I think I'll take the crooked trail up to that place; it's a lot the coolest road, and I'll wait till the sun's most down. I guess that three thousand dollar mortgage can wait over a day now, less you feel too cramped." Thomas Smith rose from his chair. His face was ashy and his small black eyes burned with a wicked fire. He gave one long, steady look into Champers' face and slipped from the rear door like a shadow. Darley Champers knew he had won the day, and no sense of personal danger had ever troubled him. He settled back in his chair, drew a long sigh of relief, and soon snored comfortably through his afternoon's nap. When he awoke it was quite dark, for the storm cloud covered the sky and the hot breath from the west was like the air from a furnace mouth. "It's not late, but it's danged hot. I wonder why that Jew wanted me to meet him over there. Couldn't he have come here? I'm wet with sweat now. How'll I be by the time I get out to that ranch?" Champers stretched his limbs and mopped his hot neck with his handkerchief. "I reckon I'd better go, though. Jacobs always knows why he wants a thing. And he's the finest man ever came out of Jewey. With him in town and Asher Aydelot on a farm, no city nor rural communities could be more blessed." Then he remembered Thomas Smith and a cold shiver seized his big, perspiring body. "I wonder why I dread to go," he said, half aloud. "The creek trail will be cool, but, golly, I'm danged cold right now." Again his mind ran to Smith's face as he had seen it last. He put on his hat and started to take his long raincoat off the hook behind the rear door. "Reckon I'd better take it. It looks like storming," he muttered. "Hello! What the devil!" For Rosie Gimpke, with blazing cheeks and hair dripping with perspiration, was hidden behind the coat. "Oh, Mr. Champers, go queek and find Yon Yacob, but don't go the creek roat. I coom slippin' to tell you to go sure, and I hit when that strange man coom slippin' in. I hear all you say, an' I see him troo der crack here, an' he stant out there a long time looking back in here. So I half to wait an' you go nappin' an' I still wait. I wait to say, hurry, but don't go oop nor down der creek trail. I do anything for Miss Shirley, an' I like you for takin' care off her goot name; goot names iss hardt to get back if dey gets avay. Hurry." "Heaven bless your good soul!" Champers said heartily. "But why not take the cool road? I've overslept and I've got to hurry and the storm's hustling in." "Don't, please don't take it," Rosie begged.