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"Now, listen to me, Uncle Abel," said Mary, trembling now. "Are you sure you saw Harry Dale and Bertha Buckolt at Buckolts' Gate after he left here that night?" "Yes. An' what's more, I seen young Tommy there ridin' on his pony along by the Spur a little while after, an' he muster seen them too, if he's got a tongue." Mary turned quickly to her brother.
You're always mistaking people. It might have been someone else." "I know Harry Dale on horseback two miles off!" roared Uncle Abel. "And I knowed her by her cape." It was Mary's turn to gasp and stare at Uncle Abel. "Uncle Abel," she managed to say, "Uncle Abel! Wasn't it at our Lower Sliprails you saw them and not Buckolts' Gate?" "Well!" bellowed Uncle Abel.
"Well, why didn't she get the writings?" retorted Uncle Abel. Half-way to Buckolts' Mary met Bertha Buckolt herself, coming over to the selection for the first time since the night of the party. Bertha started forward to kiss Mary, but stopped short as Mary stood stock-still and faced her, with her hands behind her back. "Why! whatever is the matter, Mary?" exclaimed Bertha.
"You might call 'em the `Lower Sliprails, but I calls 'em Buckolts' Gate! They lead to'r'ds Buckolts', don't they? Hey? Them other sliprails" jerking his arms in the direction of the upper paddock "them theer other sliprails that leads outer Reid's lane I calls Reid's Sliprails. I don't know nothing about no upper or lower, or easter or wester, or any other la-di-dah names you like to call 'em."
The family were unaware of his new name for the Lower Sliprails, and after he had, on one or two occasions, informed the boys that they would find a missing cow or horse at the Buckolts' Gate, and they had found it calmly camped at the Lower Sliprails, and after he had made several appointments to meet parties at Buckolts' Gate, and had been found leaning obstinately on the fence by the Lower Sliprails with no explanation to offer other than that he was waiting at Buckolts' Gate, they began to fear that he was becoming weak in his mind.
These sliprails were called "The Lower Sliprails" by the family, and it occurred to Uncle Abel to refer to them as "Buckolts' Gate," for no other reason apparently than that Buckolts' farm lay in that direction. The farm was about a mile further on, on the other side of the creek, and the gate leading to it from the main road was round the spur, out of sight of Carey's selection.
"That will do," said Bertha, and Jim went to catch his horse. Next day Harry's reply came: "Coming" New Year's Eve. The dance was at Buckolts' this year, but Bertha didn't dance much; she was down by the gate most of the time with little Mary Carey, waiting, and watching the long, white road, and listening for horses' feet, and disappointed often as other horsemen rode by or turned up to the farm.
When they reached the Lower Sliprails Jim said he'd go on and that Harry needn't hurry: he stooped over his horse's neck, kissed his sister, promised to keep away from the drink, not to touch a card, and to leave off fighting, and rode on. And when he rounded the Spur he saw a tall, graceful figure slipping through the trees from the creek towards Buckolts' Gate.
Then Ryan wanted to know why Abel had driven his bull out of Buckolts' Gate, and the Buckolts wanted to know what business Abel Albury had to drive Ryan's bull out of their paddock, if the bull had really ever been there. And so it went on till Rocky Rises was ripe for a tragedy. The breach between the Careys and the Buckolts was widened, the quarrel between Ryan and Reid intensified.
She was standin' under a tree, and she looked as if she was cryin'." But Mary got her bonnet and started out. "Where are you going to, Mary?" asked her mother, starting up nervously. "I'm going across to Buckolts' to find out the truth," said Mary, and she went out. "Better let her go, Lizzie," said Aunt Emma, detaining her sister. "You've done it now, Uncle Abel."
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