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He was not in white flannels now, but he looked almost as wonderful to the girl in his gray business suit, with the air of easy command, and the quiet half-smile only latent on his face. Shade Buckheath had spoken of Gray Stoddard as the boss of the bosses down at Cottonville. Indeed, his position was unique.
"Night turn," replied Buckheath briefly. "Sunday's over at sundown." "Oh, yes," agreed Johnnie dutifully, but rather disheartened. "Trade must be mighty good if they have to work all night." "Them that works don't get any more for it," retorted Shade harshly. "What's the little ones goin' to the mill for?" Johnnie questioned, staring up at him with apprehensive eyes.
Sometimes I think we always get just what we deserve in this here world, and that the only safe way is to try to deserve something good. I hope I didn't say too much for Uncle Pros; but he's so easy and say-nothin' himself, that I just couldn't bear to hear you laughin' at him and not answer you." "I declare, you're plenty funny!" Buckheath burst put boisterously. "No, I ain't mad at you.
"That first scrimmage showed me just what the men were after," Stoddard said. "Buckheath plainly wanted me put out of the way; but the others had some vague idea of holding me for a ransom and getting money out of the Hardwicks. Dawson complained always that he thought the mills owed him money.
Buckheath stood gazing at her sarcastically. "Come on," he ordered, as she held back, lingering. "They ain't no good in you hangin' 'round here. That was Mr. Gray Stoddard, and the lady he's beauin' is Miss Lydia Sessions, Mr. Hardwick's sister-in-law. He's for such as her not for you. He's the boss of the bosses down at Cottonville. No use of you lookin' at him."
Whar's Shade Buckheath? Lord A'mighty! Whar am I at?" He looked around him bewildered, evidently expecting to see the porch of Himes's boarding-house at Cottonville, the scattered bits of silver ore, and the rifled bandanna. He put his hand to his head, and sliding it softly down to the back of the neck demanded. "What's been did to me?"
On the one side Himes and Buckheath drew back and regarded this scene with angry derision. In the carriage below Lydia Sessions, who could hear nothing that was said, stared incredulously, and moved as though to get down and join Johnnie. "You'll want him sent to the hospital?" Stoddard urged, half interrogatively. "Look in there. Listen to the noise.
She was not without a healthy young woman's relish for this sort of admiration; but Shade Buckheath's proposal came with so little grace, in such almost sinister form, that she scarcely recognized it. "Yes, if we're going to wed," reiterated Buckheath sullenly. "I'm willin' to have you." Johnnie's tense, almost tragic manner relaxed. She laughed suddenly.
There came a sound of light hoofs down the road, and Stoddard on Roan Sultan, riding bareheaded, came toward them under the trees. Miss Sessions clutched the gate and stood staring. Buckheath drew a little closer, set his shoulder against the fence and tried to look unconcerned.
The automobile was stopped, the young fellow in it calling to Shade: "I wonder if you could help me with this thing, Buckheath? It's on a strike again. Show me what you did to it last time." Along the edge of the road at this point, for safety's sake, a low stone wall had been laid.
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